


Well I know I'm hard to take (And my bones are calling out your name)

by Dividedpoet



Series: Throw me a lifeline ('Cause honey I got nothing to lose): The Ballad of Bone Dry - A Bucky/Darcy Coffee Shop AU [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, Retrograde Amnesia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dividedpoet/pseuds/Dividedpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Darcy blushes but powers through in true Darcy style. “I don’t know, man. Kids today, they’re all about the mock ups of domesticity without any actual commitment. I see ‘hashtag wife status’ on the reg. Without an actual conversation, I don’t like to assume,” she says, shrugging.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Bucky kisses her then, almost bruising in it’s intensity. He pulls back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Can I keep you?”</i></p><p>  <i>Darcy cracks a grin at the same time Bucky does but they don’t separate, foreheads still pressed. “Only ‘cause you used the line from Casper and not because I agree with the implication you have any claim to my person,” she whispers back, but she starts giggling halfway through the sentence and she kisses him again right after. “Now tell me the story of the pretty, pretty boys,” she says the next time they separate.</i></p><p>Part Four of my Bucky/Darcy Coffee Shop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> An: Hello all! I wanted to go ahead and first thank everyone that has come back to this story. I know there are huge pauses between postings and I'm so appreciative of you guys bearing with me. I have sooooo many ideas for this series. Seriously, my word document for this story is all over the place. However, I wanted to go ahead and start posting since I have a good chunk of this done.
> 
> When I'm done with this one I'll probably end up posting a "'Bone Dry' Interlude" that gives us the full backstory on Pietro and Steve. Additionally, it'll name the coffee shop for the first time in the series (somehow I kept leaving that out).
> 
> As always, I have no beta so if you see any glaring errors feel free to let me know.

Wednesday:

On Bucky’s first day back from being out with the flu it happens. It's sudden and unexpected and Bucky is much too fresh from illness to handle this. In all honesty, he doesn't recognize the kid at first. It’s been at least two and a half years since he’s seen him and he’s changed. There's a certainty and amusement in his eyes that wasn't there before. It replaces the once-hinted cagey fear. Furthermore, his hair is trimmed short, miles away from his previously wild blond curls. Still, this man and the one Bucky once knew are clearly one in the same. 

Pietro Maximoff locks eyes with Bucky as he walks up to the counter. "Long time, no see," Pietro says in his thick Eastern European accent. When Bucky arches an eyebrow Pietro chuckles. "Calm down, guard dog. He told me to meet him here."

Bucky's arch turns into a furrow and then his eyes widen comically. "He called you?" and it's less of a question, more a desire for affirmation. Bucky gets his affirmation when Pietro nods and for some reason now Bucky is fighting a grin.

Darcy, set up on a stool at the end of the bar, looks between Bucky and Pietro like she's watching a tennis match. "Who is ‘he’ and why are we happy about this?"

Pietro cocks his head. "She yours?" he asks Bucky. 

Bucky doesn't have a chance to wince before Darcy opens her mouth. "She is her own, thank you very much. Again I ask, who is the ‘he’? And who is the you?"

Pietro chuckles at Darcy's response. "That would be the fancy lawyer." He sticks his hand out. "I'm Pete."

Darcy returns the shake slowly. “Darcy,” she says. “And the happy?” she asks again, directing her gaze back to Bucky.

His eyes are severe now, head turned so Pietro can't see them through his hair. “What happy, _Darc_?” His voice is a forced calm that doesn't match his face. Bucky is saved from Darcy’s surely terrifying response by the ring of the bell and everyone looking that way. 

It's Steve. He moves toward the counter quickly but his steps falter when he registers Pietro. Steve shakes his head. “Hey,” he says after his clear pause to take in the younger man's shorn locks, among other things. “You look - “ Steve pauses again, shakes his head. “I'm sorry,” he clears his throat. “I was tied up at work.”

Pietro smiles, and it’s soft. Bucky can see the softness and he sucks at reading that shit. “Nothing changes, huh?” There's no malice there, only teasing. 

Steve blushes and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, not really.” He catches Darcy’s eyes. “You been keeping this one away from the grill?” he asks, throwing her a wink and nodding toward Bucky.

Darcy shoves down her desperate confusion and nods. “Yes sir, no food touched by his germy, awful immune-system-having hands,” she says.

Steve smiles. “Good.” He looks back at Bucky. “Could I get my regular and…” he trails off, motioning to Pietro.

“I'll just take a cup of green tea,” Pietro says. He shrugs, “Coffee practically makes me invisible, I can't sit still.”

“Noted,” Bucky says, turning to start the order. He doesn't miss the hand Steve puts on Pietro’s lower back as they walk toward some of the comfortable chairs near a window after Steve puts down money for the order. Bucky doesn't have to look to know Darcy’s mouth is hanging open.

It only takes about ten seconds before she's hissing, “He's _gay_? How did I not catch that?”

Bucky snorts. “He doesn't wear a sign,” he says. 

Darcy shakes her head. “I don't need a sign I need - “ she pauses as if in thought and then sighs. 

Bucky smiles. “It make sense now?”

She nods. “The lack of leering in my general breast area confirmed it. I mean he likes them, sure, but it’s more of a fascination. I should have known,” Darcy says solemnly. She bounces back in a moment, looking at Steve and Pietro again, too far to hear. “Were they together?”

Bucky can't keep himself from goading her. “Define ‘together’,” he says, smirking at the espresso machine.

“What do you mean?” she asks, absolutely falling for it.

“Well, if we’re speaking in the biblical sense, than yes. But, relationship-wise, not really,” he says.

“James, cut the crap,” Darcy prods, immediately impatient.

Bucky chuckles. “Calm down, I'll tell you later,” he says, shaking his head. 

Darcy huffs. “Lies,” she mutters. 

The expression the espresso machine reflects back at Bucky is soft and fond. Must need to be shined.

Darcy takes the two men their drinks. 

Pietro and Steve spend an hour and a half “catching up”...at least that's the euphemism Steve uses when he comes for a second round half an hour in and Bucky bluntly asks what they're doing. Luckily Pietro uses the break in conversation to go to the men’s room. Darcy is grilling a burger but she starts doing something else as well when Steve walks up. Bucky ignores that.

“How did this even happen?” Bucky prods Steve, unhappy with his initial response.

Steve shrugs, checking quickly for Pietro before answering. “Wanda called me a few months ago, told me that he was moving back here. He was offered a job at the high school.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline and Steve chuckles. “I know. But he was and - “

Bucky cuts him off. “Why is he suddenly willing to be in a room with you?” he asks impatiently.

Steve purses his lips, checking for Pietro again before he speaks. “I called him last year,” he says quietly.

This Bucky didn't know and he sucks in an exaggerated breath. Steve rolls his eyes. “What was I supposed to say,” he asks. “‘'Hey Buck, I talked to that ‘kid’ I could have lost my job for a few years ago. I told him I lied to him and asked him not to hate me anymore.’” To punctuate the statement Steve holds up the sarcastically crossed fingers of one hand. 

Bucky waves off Steve's rhetorical question. “So what, Wanda wanted to make sure he had friends?”

“Something like that,” Steve says evasively. Bucky stares at him. Blinks. Steve sighs, but before he can explain Pietro comes out of the restroom. Darcy slides over two drinks and Steve snatches them up. “Thank you, Darcy,” Steve says pointedly before turning and following Pietro back to their seats.

“Down boy,” Darcy says, going back to the burger. “Remember the happy?”

Bucky affects a confused expression. “What? I was good.” Darcy stares him down and Bucky cracks with a smile. “It's just, you weren't here the last time this ‘kid’ got under Steve’s skin,” he says, shrugging and emphasizing ‘kid’ the way Steve had. “He was a whiny, mopey little bitch for weeks. Steve does not do well when loose ends aren't tied.”

Darcy nods her head toward the pair talking quietly by the window, Steve’s hand having just landed right above Pietro’s knee seemingly to make a point. “Pretty sure he's making every effort to get things _tied up_ ,” she teases. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Crack as many jokes as you want. I am unfazed,” he declares. 

Darcy snickers. “Oh shit,” she says suddenly, pulling off her apron and running for his office. 

“Huh,” Bucky grunts.

Darcy comes flying back out into the cafe, coat and scarf on and bag in hand. “I have a meeting with my adviser in 15 minutes on the other side of campus,” she says, sliding behind the bar. “Eat that because I haven't seen you eat yet and I need your beautiful muscles to stay intact,” she commands with a smile, pointing to the cooked patty on the burner and the assorted condiments she’d pulled out. Then she crowds up in his space, slotting between his spread legs and against the stool he's sitting on. “I'll see you tonight for dinner,” she adds before pressing her lips to his. Bucky’s just tightened the fingers of his right hand on her waist when she pulls away. “Bye Steve! And muscle-y friend of Steve,” she calls across the cafe like an afterthought before ducking out the door. 

Steve and Pietro shoot Bucky amused looks. He shrugs before turning to fix up that burger.

An hour later, while Bucky is setting the timer on some cinnamon rolls he made after sanitizing his hands _thoroughly_ , someone clears their throat behind him. Pietro is standing at the counter when Bucky turns. Steve is nowhere to be found.

“Bathroom,” Pietro supplies to Bucky’s unasked question. Bucky nods. Pietro clears his throat again. He takes a cursory look around the shop and for the first time all day, Bucky sees a sliver of that kid. “I didn’t mean to sic Wanda on him,” he says, still not looking at Bucky. 

Bucky watches Pietro shift back and forth almost imperceptibly. He shrugs. “He didn’t mean to break your little boy heart under the guise of his job being more important,” he says. “Shit happens.”

Pietro’s smile is slight but apparent. “I know. He told me.” When he looks at Bucky his eyes are curious. “What made him finally quit?” he asks. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I thought he told you,” he says.

Pietro shakes his head, “Glossed over that detail, actually.”

“Then I guess he didn’t want you to know,” Bucky says with a wink just as Steve walks out of the bathroom. Even though he’s not answering the other man, Pietro smiles at him.

“You ready to go?” Steve asks. 

Pietro nods. With a wave from both men and no suggestion as to where they might be going, they leave the coffee shop. 

Bucky hesitates before calling Natasha.

Natasha answers, clearly out of breath. Bucky arches an eyebrow. “This better be you telling me you'll go to the fair, James.” The words are growled and if Bucky doesn't know any better he thinks Natasha is muffling a pant.

Natasha’s words have the intended effect of making Bucky deflate at the reminder. “Well, it’s not that per se - “ he begins. She hangs up on him. 

Bucky sighs and runs through a mental list of people that were around for this initially and is reminded Clint saw the most field time. With Coulson still laid up from his near-brush and surgery, Bucky had given Clint some time off. Bucky frowns, thinking of how nice it would actually be to have that pain in the ass around for this. Bucky contemplates calling Clint but ultimately decides he will feed the little gossip once he’s back in a few days.

They're at Bucky's apartment making dinner a few hours later before Darcy asks about Pietro and Steve. Bucky’s shoulders hunch up as he moves broccoli, mushrooms, and chicken in alfredo sauce out of a pan and onto plates of fettuccine. “I don't know how I feel about this. It's Steve's shit. I don't - “ he begins. Because talking about it with Clint is different. He was _around_.

“James,” Darcy cuts him off. “I am your girlfriend - “ Bucky arches an amused eyebrow and Darcy falters before rephrasing quickly. “I have _apparently_ decided I am your girlfriend and that entitles me to certain truths. Furthermore, who am I going to tell? I know ten people.” She tugs on Bucky’s metal arm. “Please, please dear god tell me the story of your sexy, sexy friend and his sexy, sexy european man candy that is coincidentally my age.” Darcy winks with the last comment.

Bucky shakes his head and tries to ignore the look on her face, mind fixed on her words as he sets the pan down. He breaks in moments. “Fine, woman!” He growls. “I'll tell you what I know, but it isn’t much...or detailed.”

Darcy beams. “Hold on, lemme grab some grub.” She does just that, snatching a plate before settling on the couch for storytime. Watching her eager anticipation makes Bucky smile involuntarily. Before he can let himself think, Bucky is tugging the plate out of Darcy’s grasp and setting it on the coffee table.

“I’ll get to the story portion of this evening, I just want to clear up one thing,” he pauses to sit on the couch and then slides into Darcy’s space. She's sitting cross-legged and he takes hold of her ankles, settling between her thighs and wrapping her legs loosely around his waist. Darcy’s stiff at first but soon relaxes into the adjustments. Once Bucky settles he lifts a hand to Darcy’s face...and flicks her in the side of the head.

“Ow!” Darcy exclaims dramatically, pulling back and rubbing her temple.

“I made declarations,” Bucky begins incredulously where his tone had previously been sweet. “I made declarations and grand gestures in front of my customers and - the kitchen. I let you _cook_ in my kitchen at the cafe and _girlfriend_ is what you think I’m teasing you about? Not that you’re pulling the card so soon out of the gate?” he says, eyebrow arched.

Darcy blushes but powers through in true Darcy style. “I don’t know, man. Kids today, they’re all about the mock ups of domesticity without any actual commitment. I see ‘hashtag wife status’ on the reg. Without an actual conversation, I don’t like to assume,” she says, shrugging.

Bucky kisses her then, almost bruising in it’s intensity. He pulls back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Can I keep you?”

Darcy cracks a grin at the same time Bucky does but they don’t separate, foreheads still pressed. “Only ‘cause you used the line from Casper and not because I agree with the implication you have any claim to my person,” she whispers back, but she starts giggling halfway through the sentence and she kisses him again right after. “Now tell me the story of the pretty, pretty boys,” she says the next time they separate.

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Like I said, I don’t have a lot of details,” he says. Darcy pinches him in the ribs. “Ow! I’m getting started,” he says, returning the pinch with one of his own to her side. 

Darcy seems to have a great internal battle before refraining from launching into an all out pinch war. “James,” she croons, dragging out the ‘a.’

Bucky rolls his eyes. “First time I met that kid, Pietro er - uh _Pete_ , the shop had been open for a year,” he starts. “I was -- “ Bucky pauses to calculate. “26. Steve was working at this fancy law firm and representing military clients. Kid got into a bar fight, his sister appealed to the right secretary, and his case landed at Steve’s feet. Pro Bono and difficult as hell.”

Darcy frowned. “You said he was taking military clients. How’d Steve end up with him?”

“Pete did a tour,” Bucky shrugs. 

Darcy’s mouth does a little ‘O’ in response as if that thought hadn’t occurred to her. Bucky holds back a snort of laughter.

“Without fail,” Bucky continues on after a moment without further comment, “Everytime Pete’s court date came up, he would disappear. Wanda, his sister, would look for him for a while but she would end up calling Steve because he wouldn't listen to her. Big brother’s rebellious streak was too stubborn for little sister.”

Darcy arches an eyebrow. “So, what, she’d get Steve to come wrestle him home?” She shakes her head. “I'm not buying that for a second. That man doesn't have a wrestle-y bone in his body…” Darcy pauses in thought, head tilting to the side and staring off into space as if she's getting a better angle on a mental picture. “Except for the wrestling in high school I'm sure he did very well in tight, tight unitards.”

Bucky snorts this time. “Stevie?” he says, “Nah, when we were kids Steve was 90 pounds soaking wet. He didn't get that big until we were about to graduate high school…” he trails off after the words tumble out of his mouth. Bucky isn't really sure when the memory of Steve’s lanky body, before the muscle set in, opening the door their junior year of high school settled in with the rest of his conscious memories.

Darcy’s hand settles on his knee. “Bucky, you okay?”

Darcy’s use of his nickname instead of her typically playful employment of his first name pulls Bucky back to the room. “Sorry, yeah, sorry. I just - “ he shakes his head. “Remembered something,” he says almost reflexively, not realizing that the poor choice of words highlight exactly what happened.

Darcy’s eyes widen a bit. “Like - ”

Bucky speaks quickly. “Can we pretend I didn't just say that and go back to me gossiping like a small teen queen about my brother because - well, just because?” he says, making every attempt to keep the pleading out of his voice and failing miserably.

Darcy stares at him for a second, eyes narrowing slowly, before nodding her head once in affirmation. “So again I ask, what exactly did she expect Steve to do?”

Bucky takes a moment to smile at the amazing and beautiful woman in front of him before continuing his story. “She expected him to figure out a way to convince Pete to listen to him,” Bucky says. A huge grin splits across his face. “And figure out he did. I call that period, ‘The time in my life when Steve Rogers stole a homeless kids backpack’.”

“He did not,” Darcy says, incredulous.

Bucky nods. “Oh, yes he did,” he says. “He would find the kid asleep in, I don't know, crack dens - “

“Please never refer to Steve entering crack dens again - “

“ - and steal his goddamn backpack. He must have done it three times. And you've met Steve, so imagine him in a crack den - “

“What did I say?”

“Asking guys on the floor where to find this kid. And they're not super friendly in crack dens - “

“I know you're trying to make me uncomfortable and I gotta tell you, A+ - “

“So he's walking in on people and god knows what else, before finding and snatching Pete’s dirty backpack,” he finally finishes, fighting down a smirk.

He'll tell her later that there were no crack dens.

“And what, did his backpack have a magic leash that pulled Pete along?” Darcy asks, eyes still narrowed at Bucky.

Bucky ignores the burning glare. “Something like that. The guy's parents died when he was a kid. There were all these pictures...I don't really know the details, but they ended up in there. He wouldn't leave them.”

Darcy’s eyes softened. Still. “Dick head,” she mutters to Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes but continues. “So this shit went on for a few weeks; Steve would lift the backpack, Pete would track him down, Steve would make him promise to show up for his court date, he wouldn't. Rinse and repeat,” he says.

“What broke the cycle?” Darcy asks, taking a bite of her pasta.

“Wanda kicked him out,” Bucky says simply. “They had this whole thing in the coffee shop one day. That was the first time I saw him. Steve had the backpack, Pete was sullen, and Wanda kicked him out after he sassed her too many times. Thrust him on Steve. Steve being Steve -- “

Darcy gives a thin smile. “Took to the thrusting,” she arches an eyebrow again.

“Not initially,” Bucky says, patting Darcy’s thigh. “He held off for a while; put up a valiant fight. But I guess Pete wore him down.”

Darcy whistles through her teeth. “Are you telling me our upstanding Mr. Rogers committed acts that could be considered inappropriate?” she says, tone prodding.

“That he did,” Bucky says, enjoying the looking of eagerness on Darcy’s face but refusing to show it.

Darcy bounces in her spot on the couch, glass of wine Bucky handed her while he was speaking in hand and plate back on the table. “Get to it, man!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “I didn't really get a chance to talk to Steve again for a couple days after Pietro bailed abruptly on the spectacle that was Wanda kicking him out. When I did he had the kid in with him and the two were being awkward as fuck.” 

Darcy takes a long sip of the wine. “Facts of Life awkward or I just boned my lawyer awkward?” she asks halfway through her swallow. Bucky hesitates and Darcy bounces again. “I know he told you.”

Bucky pulls from the beer he’d also procured. “Christ. Yeah, sure, he told me; we went in the office and we gossiped like incredibly muscular little girls. He told me every detailed and then we braided each others hair.”

Darcy finishes swallowing another sip with a raised eyebrow. “How are you already being a sarcastic shit? You've been my boyfriend for like twenty minutes.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and sets down his beer. In a swift motion he snags Darcy's glass away and wraps his left arm around her waist to tug her into his lap again, seating her fully this time. Darcy giggles when Bucky's lips breach the wall of her hair to mutter against her neck. “My sarcastic wit is what you like most about me,” Bucky reminds her with a wink. “As for Steve; he did tell me they -- “ Bucky pauses to search for the right word.

“Got physical, physical?” Darcy supplies.

Bucky chuckles. He brushes some hair out of her eyes thoughtlessly as he speaks. “Yes. But he didn’t tell me what led up to it. ” Darcy’s shoulders sag in disappointment. 

Bucky smiles mischievously. “Natasha. Natasha told me what happened.”

Darcy’s eyes widen and a smile breaks across her face. “Ooooh, I love that scary woman so much,” she says emphatically.

Bucky chuckles. “You’re getting too excited for a vague retelling of how Steve ended up in Pietro’s bed doing the horizontal cha-cha.”

Darcy huffs. “First, you did not just say horizontal cha-cha. Secondly, that is neither juicy nor entertaining and does not for an awkward moment make. I don't want a vague retelling, I want details,” she says before draining her glass. “Just a couple of interesting details, please.” 

Darcy bounces a little and Bucky resists another eye roll as well as the urge to look at her rack. Too much power. Bouncing. No. 

Bucky shrugs. “I don't have interesting details. All he told Bruce about was _feelings_ and that it was enough to get his ass thrown out of the firm a couple times over before they actually ever did anything,” he says, snagging his beer off of the table.

Darcy cocks her he head to the side. “I mean, I get lusting after a client is bad-bad, but he wasn't gonna be his client forever so what was the issue?” she asks.

Bucky grimaces at this memory. “His firm at the time had a strict no client fraternization policy because of a couple fiascos with one of the partners. It was grounds for immediate dismissal. That was kind of an issue for Stevie.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh shit,” she breathes.

Bucky nods. “Which would have been fine, except apparently at some point Steve’s polite attitude started to cross lines in appropriateness and Pete played on that. I think their may have been some post-nightmare holding,” Bucky finishes, shoulders tensing up automatically at the conclusion.

Darcy’s fingers ghosting across his cause a reflexive calm. “Hey man, sometimes that happens. Steve would have appreciated the bonus cuddle time if it wasn't for that whole possibility of getting fired thing,” Darcy says, tone masked as off handed and dismissive. Bucky smiles appreciatively but Darcy starts shaking his shoulder.

Bucky heaves an overdramatic sigh. “What do you think happened next?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Darcy purses her lips in an approximation of intense thought. “The two entered into a trist but it was foiled when Pietro’s youth got the better of him and he almost outed Steve,” she says in her most Soap Opera-esque voice. When the other eyebrow lifts to meet Bucky’s first in surprise Darcy pinches him in the side. “Get the fuck out that is _not_ what happens next,” she says.

“It really is,” Bucky chuckles, squirming away from her fingers. “I mean, I actually have more details if you’d like them but, yep, that about sums it up.” Darcy just stares at him. He takes that as his cue. “I guess after that sleep thing thing is when Pietro started going in for the kill. Coming onto Steve. One night Steve finally gave in.”

Darcy gasps. “No,” she says, bringing a hand to her chest. Though it appeas to be mostly for dramatic effect.

“Yes,” Bucky says, inflection matching Darcy’s. “One must to enter into the horizontal cha-cha I referenced before.” Darcy smacks him in the right arm. Bucky continues through laughter. “Steve brought Pete to the shop the morning of his hearing. Lemme tell you, he wasn’t glowing so much as burning and Pete was bouncing all over the place.” He pauses in thought. “Though, in retrospect now that I know the thing about him and coffee, that makes more sense.”

Darcy sighs. “On topic please, James,” she says.

“That was on topic,” Bucky laughs. “Years of thinking the kid had done a line in the bathroom to get that keyed up only to find out that I did it with the free cups,” he says. Darcy takes a pointed sip of her wine. Bucky rolls his eyes. “Before it happened, Steve told Bruce Pete had been working on him for a couple days - “

Darcy cuts him off. “Working on him? Like, wearing tight little shorts around the apartment and bring other boys over or…” she trails off, making some for all intents and purposes indiscernible waving motion toward Bucky’s junk with her free hand. 

“Oh, he was coming on way too strong for Stevie. Waiting for him in the hallway after he showered, sitting too close to him on the couch, shit like that. All very soft offenses, typically, but - “

“Steve wanted to bone him,” Darcy finishes.

“ _Bone_ him in and around his mouth,” Bucky clarifies. 

Darcy laughs. “Well shit, I guess even Commander United ultimately can’t turn down an eager hummer,” she says.

Bucky shakes his head in mock solemnity. “He told Bruce he could have put up with it, because of course Steve Rogers is not controlled by his libido,” Bucky pauses to make a jerking motion with his hand. “But when they were talking, or he would hear Pete having a nightmare, it was the worst.”

Darcy narrows her eyes. “Don’t mock the gooey part. I like the gooey part,” she says. As soon as the words leave her mouth, both Darcy and Bucky pause to have a moment of silent amusement for the innuendo of the phrase. After that moment ends, Darcy clarifies, “The romantic bits. I like hearing about it.”

Bucky nods. “Noted; romantic portions of tonight’s story will no longer be mocked,” he says. Then he coughs. “In all fairness, that is because there are barely any more romantic portions of this story,” Darcy frowns and opens her mouth but he continues on. “The two got naked together. Steve being the _gigantic_ pussy that he is tumbled head over heels for the kid as soon as he stuck his dick in him. Then reality stepped in.”

Darcy furrows her eyebrows. “Had it stepped out? Also did he tell you this or - ”

“It must have, because for a hot minute Steve was ready to make a go at it with the Romanian delinquent,” he says. Then, as an afterthought, “And no, I was still too fragile in Steve’s mind to tell his problems to. This story is woven purely from the occasional pushed detail, drunken stories with Tash, and vaguely remembered body language.”

Darcy doesn’t move an inch. “What happened?” she says, but her words seem to dread the answer in a way they haven’t before.

“Wanda saw them at the courthouse,” Bucky says with a shrug. “Took me a while to get it out of Bruce. Steve wouldn’t actually talk about it for weeks, kept brushing it off like an expected consequence. But yeah, she saw something.”

“So, she was angry at him?”

Bucky shakes his head then pauses, considering. “I mean, probably. But her angle was her brother. That he needed to grow up before more people gave up things for him.” 

Darcy whistles. “That's so fucked up,” she said. Bucky nods.

After a brief pause for a moment more of idle thought Bucky continues. “Anyway, when Pete showed back up at Steve’s the night after the hearing, Steve told him one of his partners had seen them and was threatening him and that Pete wasn't worth losing his job over,” he says. “I mean, there was some other shit first. Steve is Steve. But ultimately that’s how he got the kid to leave him alone.”

Darcy whistles again, longer this time. “I can’t imagine Steve doin’ someone that way,” she says when she's done.

Bucky nods. “I’d be right there with you if I hadn’t seen him in court,” he says with a shrug.

“Oh right, I forgot that you’ve been represented by Steve and the law firm of…” Darcy pauses, perplexed expression on her face. “What was the law firm? You alluded to it’s fanciness.”

Bucky suppresses a smirk, lips pressed together as he glances down at his lap. “Stark, Potts, and Rhodes,” he says finally.

Darcy gasps. “No he did not! Steve Rogers did not work for Tony Stark!” she says.

Bucky can’t pull his eyes away from Darcy once he looks back. She’s so excited. It's beautiful. “He did, yeah. Steve worked for the man himself,” he says, words stuttering as he tries to pull himself back on track.

Darcy looks ready to burst. “That’s insane. I mean, look,” she adjusts herself in his lap, sliding into what he assumes is supposed to be a more comfortable position but is really just cruel and mean. “I know I shouldn’t get this excited. But I watched the coverage of Stark Senior's company vs. Tony Stark on CNN like a fucking reality show. Those people make the Kardashian's look like a cohesive family unit.“ 

Bucky nods, then clears his throat. “Steve told me once that they weren’t allowed to bring up Howard Stark in the office,” he says, determined to ignore his libido. But as she shifts around in his lap, Bucky makes peace with the fact that before long his distraction is going to be very obvious to her.

“Because they would be drawn and quartered…?” Darcy asks after a moment when Bucky doesn't elaborate, trailing off at the end.

“One mention of Howard and Tony would show up drunk for the rest of the month,” Bucky says, fingers starting to absentmindedly stroke up and down Darcy’s thigh. “The way I hear it, this could sometimes culminate in Steve having to peel Tony off the bus bench outside the firm at two a.m. because Tony showed up and the guard wouldn’t let him in.”

Darcy whistles. “That is quite a legacy,” she says. Then she frowns. “Why’d they call Steve? I thought he was a fresh face there. They trusted him with such,” Darcy arches an eyebrow for effect and affects a stereotypically proper accent, “Confidential matters?”

Bucky could do this. This was good. “Oh, a fresh face he was. Tony took a liking to him. Assigned him to a special division of public relations. Technically, the way they called Steve to peel Tony up, _that_ was part of his job. Putting a pretty face in front of somebody’s sloppy mistakes.” Bucky's lips slid into a thin line. “Thing is, Tony was the only one that needed cleaning up after at that place. So, they basically assigned him to Tony and to make up for that, let him take whatever cases he wanted...for the most part.” He shakes his head. “Leave it to Howard Stark to have that kind of impact on someone's life,” Bucky says with a shrug, both hands sliding up Darcy’s back carefully now, eyes still not leaving her face. 

He can’t help it, her skin feels nice. Well, to his right hand, her skin feels nice. The left is for symmetry. 

Darcy doesn’t seem to be paying any attention. “So why did Steve leave?” She pauses. “Other than the looming possibility of a drunk Tony Stark. That’s pretty petrifying in and of itself.”

“Bruce,” Bucky says, hands continuing their motion on Darcy’s skins but impending hard-on delaying it’s timeframe. “There was a problem with a clinical trial he was in,” he began, clearing his throat as he thought back. Darcy’s eyebrows were already knitting ever closer. “The drug they gave him was supposed to shrink his tumor, but it...didn’t.” Bucky shifts Darcy farther up on his lap when she starts to slide, probably because of the serious nature of the topic. Screw that. “I know Bruce was surprised. He’d done all this research; for ages, data and research and reviews. He thought it was a reliable bet. But they’d lied about their statistical significance or something,” Bucky shakes some hair out of his face. Darcy pushes a few remaining stubborn strands behind his ear. “So Steve put together this whole case. He was going to go after the drug company that was conducting the study - “

“The firm wouldn’t let him do it,” Darcy interrupts, deep frown on her face.

Bucky shakes his head. “No they would not,” he says.

“So Steve quit?”

Bucky nods. “Oh yeah, right away. And for weeks after he railed about the shitty enforcement in drug testing.” Bucky pauses after the words come out of his mouth. Halfway to a thought he shakes his head. Later. Later is fine. Nothing to do about it now.

Before Bucky can make it all the way back to the present he feels a sharp poking to his shoulder. Refocusing he sees Darcy staring at him, finger poised and positioned to attack his left shoulder. “Hey, back on track, James. You’re supposed to answer three more trivial questions before you pin me to the couch cushions,” she says with a wink and a smirk, wiggling her hips against his briefly.

Bucky growls at the realization that all of her shifting was purposeful and grips Darcy’s ass in both hands, pulling her flush against him. “No more questions,” he says. 

Darcy giggles as his lips fasten to her neck. “But I have so many. And they’re all very important,” she says. “For starters, what ha--EEH!” Darcy cuts off when Bucky uses his grip on her rear to lift her as he stands. Her arms wrap around his shoulders to steady herself. Bucky doesn’t pause in his strides for the bedroom.

“I don’t think you understand what it’s like to be dating someone that looks like you,” Bucky begins as he walks through the doorway. “You’re all good curves, doll. It’s distracting,” he adds before dropping her, squeals and all, on his mattress. She bounces ungracefully and Bucky laughs before pulling his shirt over his head.

Darcy, who had already launched into a series of curses and death threats, went silent. When Bucky’s arms came down, she was staring at his chest. She cleared her throat when she caught him watching. “Trust me, I understand,” she says before sliding back off the bed and to her knees. Bucky’s jeans are open and her mouth is around his cock before he can really process what’s happening.

The fingers of his right hand weave into Darcy’s hair and she moans around him. Darcy bobs up and down a few times before taking him all the way to the back of her throat. Bucky loses it right then, hand leaving Darcy’s hair so he can grab her by the shoulders and pull her to her feet.

“No,” Darcy whines as Bucky spins them around. Then he’s perching on the end of the bed and his hands are leaving her shoulders to unbutton Darcy’s jeans.

The word filters into Bucky’s consciousness a second later and his hands freeze on Darcy’s waistband, head leaning forward to rest against her still clothed rib cage. “Please god tell me that was a joking no, because you just had your mouth on my dick and I really want to be inside you right now,” Bucky says, hands practically shaking.

Darcy laughs and steps back. Bucky groans and she laughs again. “Calm down,” she says, wiggling out of her pants and underwear before stripping off her shirt. Bucky flexes and relaxes his hands as he watches her move. A shiver runs down his spine when she goes for his bedside table, and the drawer with the condoms.

Their motions are swift and purposeful, Bucky rolling the condom on as he settles at the end of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. It's not their most coordinated effort, but with Darcy straddling him and Bucky putting a hand on her lower back to encourage her to grind against him, it really doesn't matter.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Darcy sighs out as she moves in Bucky’s lap, eyes fixed on his face. “This whole angle, the sitting up thing, it’s hot,” she says.

Bucky takes that as his cue to thrust up sharply. Darcy gasps and Bucky shudders as she tightens around him. Everything about being inside Darcy is like being home. She is accepting and warm in all the ways he felt like he’s been missing for so long. The more time she spent around him, on him, the better he felt he was. 

Moving with her he found his thoughts repeatedly turning to the fear that she would tire of his damage.


	2. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Natasha furrows her eyebrows, “Yes. One moment." Natasha extends the phone to Bucky. “It’s Darcy, you’re not picking up.”_
> 
> _Bucky takes the outstretched item from Natasha, noting Bruce’s name on the display. “Hey, is everything okay? Natasha was over here trying to shanghai me. I didn’t hear my phone,” he says quickly._
> 
> _Darcy snorts on the other end in what Bucky assumes is amusement. “Yeah, we’re all good. I just want to make sure you’re okay with this...in spite of the shanghai,” she says._
> 
> _If Bucky were the kind of individual that melted, that was reduced to a pile of amazement and awe by kind gestures, there would be no Bucky to hold up the phone. He is not that kind of person and instead he spares Darcy’s lovely voice a kind smile. “Yeah, I’m okay with this. We’ll see you two in a few minutes,” he says. Bucky isn’t actively looking at Natasha, but he thinks her mouth may have dropped open._
> 
> _“Cool,” Darcy says. “We will see you guys in a few.”_
> 
> _Bruce’s surprised voice echos in the background, “Are you shitting m - “ The line disconnects._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I AM SO SO SORRY! Seriously, to everyone that read this right after I posted it (and to everyone that had waited ages since my last story) please allow me to apologize for the consistently flaky nature of my posting. My life went shit show and I got distracted. From here on out I will do my damnedest to keep that from mattering. That being said, I am in graduate school at Johns Hopkins University and we go year round. So I appreciate everyone for having patience with me and please know that I will not abandon this story. I may take ages to post, but I love it and my muses always come back. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know it's short for the amount of time waited, but it's packed with goodies and I wanted to get it out. I am working on the next bit now and hope to have that out in a few days.
> 
> Absolute love to everyone that has been with me this long or has gotten this far. <3
> 
> OH! I forgot to include this, but the story title is from the song, "All I Want" by Dawn Golden.

Thursday:

Bucky arrives at his shop a little late the next morning, which is becoming typical for a Darcy night. Still, he can't say he minds in the least. It allows him to get a solid five hours in and watching her face when she comes is well worth any lost sleep. 

The shop is open for all of half an hour when Natasha comes strolling through the door. 

“No,” Bucky says as she walks up to the counter. Natasha arches an eyebrow at Bucky, stopping in front of his register. “No. I'm not going this year,” he clarifies, well aware of what day of the month it is. He’s been going to this fair with his family every year since he was twelve. His mom moved back to Brooklyn a few years ago after Bucky’s life stabilized, but when everything happened she was right there with Natasha riding his ass to go back. They were convinced it would make him remember something. It didn’t work. It never works. And Natasha does her damnedest to play it off, but Bucky can always feel her disappointment. 

Natasha sighs. “James - “

Bucky shakes his head. “No. You drag me out there every year and I never remember a goddamn thing,” he says. “It’s a waste of money, a tank of gas, and that fried food - “

“Is a wonderful colon cleanse?” Natasha finishes with a smirk. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Nothing's gonna change,” he says.

Natasha purses her lips, staring at Bucky for a moment. “What if we invite Darcy?” she says, like he didn’t see that wheel turning in her head.

It’s Bucky’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “So she can watch our yearly trip - or attempted trip - down memory lane?” he asks.

“You said you've been remembering things with her,” Natasha explains dryly.

Her words trigger his memory from last night and Bucky is opening his mouth before he can think better of it. “I remembered something new,” he says and then winces. “Ah fuck,” he mutters.

Natasha’s eyes widen. “Were you with her?” she asks first and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yes,” he says, staring at Natasha afterward rather than elaborating on the memory.

Natasha huffs. “Out with it, James. I have things to do and they do not involving wrinkling my nice jacket,” she says by way of threat.

Bucky relents. “It was small; the beginning of Steve’s growth spurt junior year,” he says with a shrug. “But I remember him opening his door. He was already halfway to full grown. Vertically speaking at least,” he adds the last part with a chuckle. “And I remember he still lived next to me on the avenue, in his parents place too. We were on our way to school for picture day. We - “ Bucky cuts off, shaking his head. “It gets fuzzy after that. But it’s something.”

The look Natasha gives him is very similar to the patient smiles she and Bruce offer doctors when they have a new round of treatment for Bruce to try. “It is,” she says. “And it makes my point,” she continues on quickly before Bucky can comment. “That girl is loosening something up in there,” she taps Bucky on the temple. 

He swats her hand away. “Maybe you're tapping on the wrong head, Tash,” he says.

Natasha makes a face. “Ew,” she says dryly.

Bucky shakes his head. “Either way, I think it's just a coincidence,” he says.

“You know I don't believe in those,” Natasha says, walking around the counter and Bucky to get to the coffee pot.

“I thought you didn't believe in ‘meaningless correlations’,” Bucky says, tone rising toward falsetto when he says ‘meaningless correlations’.

Natasha’s grin is wolfish just before she covers it with the rim of her coffee cup. “Same thing.” She takes a sip.

While she's still mid-sip, the bell above the front door chimes and Bucky waves Natasha off to deal with his first customer of the morning. Bucky is not greeted by customers and Natasha’s grin makes sense now. It had nothing to do with their conversation. 

Sam walks toward the counter, slipping off his jacket as he goes. His eyes dart back and forth between Natasha and Bucky. “You told me you’d already gotten him to agree,” Sam says, having clearly assessed the situation based on the look on Bucky's face and figured out where they were in the conversation.

Natasha shakes her head subtly. “No, I do believe I said I'd need you here so I could _get_ him to agree,” she says before taking another gulp from her mug.

Bucky sighs. “Come on. You can't just assume I'll go. I hate this shit. I hate it every time we do it. It’s gonna be the same goddamn thing. We’ll show up as soon at the gates open at nine and by ten you’ll all feel so guilty that _I_ feel guilty because I don’t remember anything that when one of us suggests going home we’ll all agree. Every. Time. What’s gonna change, doll?”

“ _Darcy_ ,” Natasha says with a sigh, setting her coffee cup down with enough force that Bucky thinks it might actually break. It might have if he didn’t pay extra for particularly sturdy cups. “You are, once again, going to stop being a baby and agree to come with me while my _wonderful_ husband fetches Darcy from your apartment so that we can pick them up on the way,” she says, her voice morphing into a distinct snap. “Every. Time. You go to see somebody about this, they say all you can do is go to familiar places at this point so - “

“Tash,” Bucky interrupts, running both hands over his face in a long suffered way. “It’s not like you knew me then. Steve has accepted this shit, for Christ’s sake. Why are you so hell bent - “

“Because it’s not fair.” Natasha isn’t yelling. Natasha doesn’t yell. But her voice booms through the relatively small shop all the same. As quickly as it reaches an echoing frequency, it subsides. “You lost over a quarter of your life that you’re willing to just write off,” she continues, her tone having taken on a pinched quality to replace the volume. “You’re a good person and I love you and it’s not fair that you’re willing to do that.” She opens her mouth, to say more Bucky assumes, but is cut off by the ringing of her phone. Pulling it out of her jacket pocket, Natasha looks at the screen and frowns. “Priviet lyubov,” she says. She furrows her eyebrows, “Yes. One moment.” Natasha extends the phone to Bucky. “It’s Darcy, you’re not picking up.”

Bucky takes the outstretched item from Natasha, noting Bruce’s name on the display. “Hey, is everything okay? Natasha was over here trying to shanghai me. I didn’t hear my phone,” he says quickly.

Darcy snorts on the other end in what Bucky assumes is amusement. “Yeah, we’re all good. I just want to make sure you’re okay with this...in spite of the shanghai,” she says.

If Bucky were the kind of individual that melted, that was reduced to a pile of amazement and awe by kind gestures, there would be no Bucky to hold up the phone. He is not that kind of person and instead he spares Darcy’s lovely voice a kind smile. “Yeah, I’m okay with this. We’ll see you two in a few minutes,” he says. Bucky isn’t actively looking at Natasha, but he thinks her mouth may have dropped open.

“Cool,” Darcy says. “We will see you guys in a few.” 

Bruce’s surprised voice echos in the background, “Are you shitting m - “ The line disconnects.

Bucky glances at the display again out of habit before handing the phone back to a silent Natasha. “Well, I guess you didn’t show up for nothing,” he says to Sam. 

Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here,” he says, moving around Bucky and dropping onto the stool behind the counter with a book. “I have this Sunday morning rush to deal with,” he adds, opening said book.

Bucky goes to grab his jacket from the office. When he comes out, he snags a to-go cup and pours some coffee, milk, and sugar in it. “Close your mouth,” he says, extending the item to Natasha. She snatches the cup with a glare and follows him from behind the counter.

There’s muttering. All the way to the car. “Every year I beg you to just try,” Natasha says as she walks, not really talking to Bucky so much as near him. “And every year you give me absolute hell. This little thing slips behind your counter and that’s all it takes.” She hiccups halfway through ‘behind’ and Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“You were the one using her as leverage,” Bucky says, heaving a sigh. “Can’t you just be proud that it worked? She’s going. At this rate, I’ll have all my memories back by spring.” Natasha’s head snaps in his directly, ready to scold him for a distasteful joke he’s sure. When they meet eyes Bucky winks at her and the fight fades from her face. Bucky takes the lowering of her defenses as a perfect opportunity to sling an arm around her neck. “Come on doll, don’t be mad,” he says.

Natasha leans into his side. “Me mad? At you? Never,” she says, and her voice is so fond yet grumpy that Bucky ducks down to kiss the top of her head. 

After they separate and climb into Natasha’s car, Bucky snorts and make the same joke he makes every time. “What, they didn’t have the batmobile?” Natasha reaches over like she’s going to pinch him but then growls and starts the car. 

Darcy and Bruce are outside of Bucky's apartment building when they come down the street. When Natasha pulls up in front of them Bucky pops out only to hop in the backseat. Understanding, Darcy climbs in after him. Bruce puts the seat back and climbs in the front next to Natasha.

Natasha clears her throat as she steps on the clutch and shifts the car into first.

Bruce looks to her and smiles. “In Natasha,” he says, words directed toward Darcy, “That means, ‘All right children, let's go make some memories.’” 

Bucky snorts and Natasha speeds away from the curb.

Two hours and four bathroom stops later, because neither Natasha nor Darcy can hold their morning coffee, they reach the fair grounds.

Sitting in the line to park, the car starts to shake as Darcy’s legs wiggle back and forth. Bucky puts a hand on one of her thighs. “You trying to take off? Because I think you'll have to get out of the car first,” he says quietly.

Darcy shakes her head, eyes focusing on Bucky a moment later. “Definitely not trying to take off. But here’s my question,” Darcy pauses and Bucky unintentionally leans forward in anticipation. “If I get a corn dog AND a hot dog will I have room for fried oreos and fried apple pie or will I have to choose?” Bucky snorts at her solemn expression and Darcy cracks a grin. 

Only having to tug Darcy forward slightly in the cramped space, Bucky presses a kiss to her lips and then her temple. “Go big or go home,” he mumbles against the skin there.

Darcy seems to relax into his side then and Bucky is reminded that this might not be so bad for once.

Natasha finds a spot for the car before knocking it into neutral and pulling the parking brake. Just as she and Bruce are about to open their doors, the previously cloudless sky seems to open up and begin dumping buckets down on the car. Wordlessly Bruce and Natasha decide this situation requires a plan and their hands drop from the handles simultaneously.

“That was creepy,” Darcy comments from the back seat as their companions turn to face them.

Natasha gives the ghost of a smile. “Years of practice,” she says.

Bruce’s own smile is indulgent without being condescending. “We don’t have any umbrellas in the car, unfortunately. The weather forecast didn’t mention rain,” he said, tone apologetic.

Bucky waves him off. “It’s all good, doc,” he says. “We can just head on home. No harm no - “

“I swear to god Bucky - “ Natasha starts.

“It’s raining!” he cuts her off.

“Worried you’re gonna rust?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.

Bucky rolls his eyes and Darcy asks, concerned, “Is that a thing that can happen?”

“Not at all,” Bruce says, amusement in his voice as his eyes dart back and forth between Bucky and Natasha. “His arm resists oxidation,” he explains.

Darcy nods slowly and Bucky gets the distinct impression that means next to nothing to her. “So the arm is, what, like stainless steel or nickel or something?”

Bucky smiles, because right, his girlfriend is a genius. 

Bruce nods. “It's an alloy, but yes it has both of those,” he says.

“My ingredients label, ladies and gents,” Bucky says with a shake of his head.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “We could do what we did last time,” she says as if a conversation hasn't been taking place.

Darcy stiffens. “Um,” she clears her throat. “What exactly did we do last time?” she asks, eyes settling on Bucky.

He shrugs. “Don't look at me, I practically wasn't here,” he says. 

Like a testament to one of his favorite things about Darcy, she doesn't say anything. Just nods, eyes going back to the couple in the front seat. “What exactly did we do last time?” she repeats.

Natasha points to a stone pavilion a few yards from the parking lot. “Food,” she says.

Darcy perks up. “Well then we best get a fucking move on. We have rain to sprint through,” she says, straightening in her seat.

Bruce chuckles. “We should listen to the lady,” he says, reaching for the handle again.

Natasha shakes her head but reaches for her handle as well. As if at once they all make a b-line from the car to the pavilion, shaking off like dogs after they take cover.

“Did you drown last time? Because I feel like we might drown,” Darcy says, spotting the retention pond to the side of the pavilion that already seems a little overwhelmed while she’s ringing out her hair.

Bucky shrugs. “Could have,” he says, dropping a warm hand on the back of her now exposed neck and pointing her toward ribs.

Darcy nods slowly. “Right on,” she says, following Bucky as soon as he starts directing her. Her shoulders are tense under his palm and the skin there is damp. He can’t tell if it’s rain water or sweat. Either way, she seems nervous and he can’t put his finger on why.

Unfortunately that doesn’t really seem to matter, because in one moment Bucky is walking through the pavilion toward the smell of barbecue and in the next, he’s still walking through the pavilion, but the smell has shifted. Bucky pauses in his forward motion, squeezing his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness.

When he opens them, he’s still in the middle of the pavilion, but there are pale arms wrapped around his midsection and he can feel a kiss followed by wet hair brushing his right shoulder. Not his hair. His hair is short. Military short. He raises his left hand, _his_ left hand, to rest on the foreign one. His heart clenches in his chest as he thinks about the ring in his bedside table. Sure, a year is fast, but not with the way she makes him feel.

Their skin is still damp. His and whoever is pressed up behind him. Furthermore, the person drops one of their arms from around his midsection to pinch him in the side. It takes Bucky a moment to pinpoint the discomfort but as quickly as he does he realizes that he doesn't mind in the least. 

That’s it, that’s all he gets before he’s back at the fair with his friends. 

Darcy is staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows, hand squeezing in his. “Are you okay?” she asks, concern evident on her face.

Bucky honestly considers telling them. It’s a struggle not to. Natasha deserves to feel the sense of accomplishment that comes with being so astonishingly right. But Bucky doesn’t know who the arms belonged too. More importantly, he doesn’t know why no one ever mentioned him dating someone.

Bucky shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just got distracted,” he says, tugging Darcy closer to his side. “We were thinking meats?”

Darcy nods, “All the meats,” she says, hand coming up to poke at his side.

Mind still on the memory, Bucky actually jumps away from Darcy when her finger makes contact with him. She freezes in her motions, hand paused in the air and eyebrow arched in concern. “You sure you’re doin’ okay there?” she asks again, frown taking over her features.

Bucky clears his throat and runs a hand through his _long,_ damp hair. “Yeah, sorry, just got a little deja vu. Made me jumpy,” he says, settling on a lie that hints at the truth.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Natasha watching them like a hawk, her body stiffening at his choice of words. Fuck.

Darcy’s frown doesn't lift. “Bucky…” she begins. 

When she trails off Bucky shakes his head and fixes her with his most disarming smile. “Meats?”

Slowly the frown drops from her face. “Meats,” she says, her voice almost relieved. As they walk toward one of the tables laid out with barbecue Bucky can feel Natasha’s eyes practically burning a hole between his shoulder blades.

Bucky spends the rest of the morning actively avoiding thoughts of pale arms and wet hair. Of rings and forgotten loves. The rain lets up about an hour and a half after they get to the fair. Things pass in a blur of Darcy after that.

It starts out slow; Darcy and her side eye glances, Darcy and the bump of her knuckles against his, Darcy’s little intake of breath when she sees something she wants to do while they're exploring. It spirals quickly; Darcy’s joyful face and laughter as she knocks over bottles with a baseball, Darcy beaming up at him and asking to go on a ride, Darcy biting her lip as Bucky crowds her against the side of a kiosk. 

It isn't long before thoughts of distant memories are miles away. It’s Natasha’s eyes on the back of his neck that keeps bringing him back from his blissful forgetfulness. 

When Darcy separates from the group to go to the restroom, Natasha is right there.

“You remembered something,” she hisses as soon as Darcy is out of earshot. 

Bucky sighs. “Come on, Tash. Just let it lie,” he says, and even to his own ears he suddenly sounds very tired.

Natasha shakes her head. “It’s the point of this little excursion so, no, I won’t just let it lie James,” she says, tone still low.

Bucky snorts and glances over his shoulder toward the restroom, checking for Darcy. Satisfied he still has time he looks back at Natasha. “Who was she?” he asks, words sharper than intended.

Natasha face drops in shock and Bucky’s stomach follows. “What?” she says softly, leaning away from Bucky.

Bucky gulps instinctively and begins to look around again, more for something to do this time than for any specific purpose. “You heard me, Natasha,” he says quietly. If he speaks up he thinks his voice may quiver. In that moment his eyes land on Bruce, not looking at them but obviously tense. Bucky turns back to Natasha.

Natasha simply stares at him for a few moments, blinking, as the color slowly returns to her face. “You didn’t see her,” she says finally, not a question but searching for confirmation all the same. Bucky says nothing and she sighs; confirmed. “James - “ she begins.

Bucky shakes his head. “The fuck, Natasha,” he says. His tone doesn’t shift, there’s no real malice to it. Still, now he can feel Bruce’s previously distracted eyes on his back from the funnel cake cart, sudden and unyielding. Bucky sighs. “I want to ask you who she was, but you haven’t told me yet so why would you now. You thought, what? You would wait until I remembered and if I never did you’d just pretend like there wasn’t some poor girl out there with the only memories in a forgotten year?”

Natasha narrows her eyes. “What did you - “ she begins.

“Barely anything,” Bucky cuts her off. “The memory itself is mere moments at this fucking place,” he says. He spots Darcy coming out of the bathroom as he lifts his left hand to his chest, almost digging at his heart. “But I know I was with her for a year,” he swallows again, “And I loved her more than I’d loved anything before.” After the words come out he drops his hand, smile that he does genuinely feel taking over his face.

Natasha is still staring at Bucky when Darcy approaches them. She’s discrete, body language inclined toward the younger woman, but her gaze is heavy where it rests on him. 

“I didn’t actually think a bathroom could be that disgusting in the winter. Turns out, doesn’t matter what temperature something is if you don’t clean it all day,” Darcy says, wiping wet hands on her pant legs. “Also, byo-pt is not my thing,” she adds.

Bucky gives Darcy a soft smile, right hand seeking out her skin. “Yeah, this place is quickly losing it’s charm,” he begins. “Maybe we’ll down this last round of fried-death before we head out for the day, if that works for you.” Now he meets eyes with Natasha, “Tash and I agree we’re about done here.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens _almost_ imperceptibly. Darcy shrugs, “Works for me.” She reaches a hand up to her still damp hair. “I’m pretty sure birds could form a nest using the nifty and straw-like effect re-wetted hair products have in my hair,” she adds.

Bruce comes over then with two plates of funnel cake. “Are we talking about leaving?” he asks, handing one plate off to Darcy before moving to stand next to Natasha with their shared cake.

Watching Darcy begin to pick off a piece, Bucky leans toward her with his mouth open. “Apparently it’s quittin’ time,” Darcy confirms with a nod of her head before stuffing slightly too much funnel cake in Bucky’s open and waiting mouth.

Bucky sputters, trying to swallow as quickly as he can. “It’s not quitting, it’s leaving before the lines get too long,” he says around that mouthful of dough.

Bruce nods slowly. “I don’t suppose that would be a bad idea, no,” he says. If Bruce was anyone else, Bucky would think the placement of himself between Natasha and Bucky was entirely unintentional. But Bruce is not anyone else. Bruce is Bruce. Every one of his actions carries meaning.

_Goddammit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).


	3. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He walks up to Steve’s office door three times. Each time he freezes before his hand actually touches the handle and makes it halfway back to the elevator before turning around to repeat the process all over again. Bucky isn't sure what he wants from Steve, to be honest. Well, that’s a lie. He wants to know who she is. He knows Steve won't tell him. Bucky may have lost a lot, but he isn't naive. Not about Steve Rogers at least. The man lives by a code._
> 
> _One of Steve’s associates finally pokes her head out of her office directly across from Steve’s on Bucky’s fourth pass. “Did you want to run a path in the carpet so we don't get lost? My you are such a sweet fellow,” Peggy Carter says, eyebrow arched._
> 
> _Bucky gives her a sheepish grin, calculated just for dames like Peggy. Well, there aren’t many dames like Peggy. Still, she reminds him a bit of Darcy. She doesn’t beat around the bush. He likes that about her. “Got a bit of a bone to pick with our pal Steve in the there. Not sure how to go about it,” he tells her honestly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Ugh! Two months in between posts. My most sincere apologies again. Every time I go to write I remember the homework I'm not doing and then the guilt stops me from writing. It's pretty viscous. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).

Friday:

Bucky spends three hours trying to do inventory, but he has a difficult time keeping his focus let alone not depleting said inventory. Every few moments the images of arms flood his mind. 

Who did they belong to? And why did no one ever tell him about her? They were only together for a year but they were important enough that they made the yearly trek to the fairgrounds with the group...at least once. Oh god, what if it was more than once? What if there’s an entire relationship buried in Bucky’s past that he doesn’t know anything about? What if they’d been dating for a year but he’d known her longer?

Bucky hears a distant crunching and realizes it’s coming from the Styrofoam cups in his hand as his fingers clench and un-clench almost uncontrollably. With some effort Bucky brings his hand back under control, setting the cups down on a table in the store room. 

“You know,” Clint’s voice comes from the doorway. Bucky lifts his gaze from the ledger program on his laptop, sitting on top of a stack of boxes. “If you stare at that damn thing long enough, it might just burn up. We’ve seen how you feel about cups.”

The thoughts that have been wreaking havoc on Bucky’s psyche for the past twenty-four hours fade to the background.

“I don't know, this thing is pretty durable,” he says easily with a grin.

Clint chuckles. “I guess it would have to be, huh,” he says, hopping up onto the table next to the mangled drinkware. Bucky’s gaze must shift, as much as he hates to admit it, because Clint takes a breath that _feels_ heavy. “Phil’s at his ‘sister’s,” Clint says, air quotes coming up around ‘sister’ and as always Bucky is amazed by the other man’s mind reading. 

Bucky’s gaze settles into something understanding. “For how long?” he asks.

Clint scratches the back of his head. “I have no idea,” he says. “I've been with him since it happened. Making sure he doesn't push himself, getting things for him, giving him his - “ Clint snaps his mouth shut and he shakes his head. “Fuck this, that bitch can have him but if anything happens I'm gonna burn May’s goddamn house down,” he bites out.

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “I'm guessing she doesn’t think you can take care of him?”

Clint shakes his head. “She does not,” he says. Clint heaves a frustrated sigh. “I know we haven't been romantic or what the fuck ever for long,” he begins. Bucky rolls his eyes, anticipating a myriad of things Clint could say next. “But we've been dancing around each other for years,” he says, his tone almost off handed. Bucky would think it’s some kind of slip except Clint catches his gaze and shrugs tiredly. “I get him shot _one time_ in Bucharest...”

Bucky stares back at Clint for a few moments before he speaks. “I'm sorry, what?” he says, completely frozen in shock.

Clint adopts a half smirk now, looking down at his lap. “Oh yeah, we were Special Forces. On a black ops team together,” he says.

“Mother fucker,” Bucky hisses as he straightens, not upset but genuinely surprised. At least he's pretty sure he's not upset.

The smirk shifts to a thoughtful grin. “I think we were actually doing a pretty good job of being stealthy in the shop. We weren't _technically_ supposed to acknowledge each other, given…” Clint trails off.

“Black ops team,” Bucky repeats from before, understanding it as an explanation.

Clint nods. “I didn't realize you’d noticed anything until that day when you sent over the coffee,” he says, chuckling. “I forgot that my boss was all creepy with the super secret, subconscious military training. Noticing body language and whatnot,” he finishes.

Bucky doesn't say anything right away, his mind playing over the things that he remembers. “Had you two -”

Clint shakes his head before the question can fully form. “Don't get me wrong; we were two attractive men in close quarters a fuck ton that enjoyed other attractive men. We had some drunken run ins, but that was about the extent of it.” He punctuates the statement with a shrug.

“So, once I said something you were just like, ‘Fuck it?’” Bucky asks.

Clint shrugs. “Pretty much. It seemed worse to keep pretending like we didn’t know each other,” he says.

Something like a warning light goes off in Bucky’s head and his shoulders tense, eyes dropping to the ledger without actually seeing it. “So you’re telling me you _both_ just happened to end up back in my town?“ The words are pointed and paranoid as all hell.

Bucky is paranoid. Fuck it. He flexes his fingers unconsciously.

“Yes,” Clint says without missing a beat, seemingly already knowing where Bucky is going and not bothered in the least. “They gave Phil an honorable discharge after he was injured on one of his missions. The university offered him a job. And me,” Clint shrugs, grin back but it taking on a hollow quality “Well, I served plenty. It was time,” he says, his smirk pressed as he meets eyes with Bucky. Bucky stares at him, not saying anything. “We’re retired. Nothing deeper than that man, I swear.” Clint reiterates, scratching the back of his head. “He took a placement as an officer when he graduated the year after your accident. Moved up quickly. He was my commanding officer when we both were tapped for the black ops team. He came back here after and I,” he pauses, attempting to be quick and succinct but the details too personal. “I just wanted to be near him,” he finishes lamely, arms dropping to his sides like the answer exhausts him.

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “Wow,” he says. Then, almost as an afterthought, “So you don’t know who she was.”

It’s not a question, but Clint confirms it all the same. “No,” he says.

Bucky sighs. “Well shit,” he mutters, leaning back in his seat and trying not to dwell on the confirmation he's received that Natasha cannot keep her goddamn mouth shut. With a deep breath and a crack of his neck, his gaze is back on Clint. “So you were pining,” he says, winking at the other man.

Clint’s shoulders relax as he rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, I was not pini - “

“You moved here to be near him?” Bucky interrupts, tone skeptical. 

“Man, I don't know,” Clint says, blowing out a puff of air. “But it was, like, strategically planned pining,” he says, looking off to the side and scratching his nose while clearly trying not to smile.

Bucky shakes his head. “Either way, you got him,” he says. Bucky pauses for a moment, thoughtful. “The rest is semantics,” he adds.

Clint nods. “Right. Feelings are feelings,” he says. “So let's cut to the shit and lay out some feelings; Natasha told me what happened at the fair and I want to know how we're _feeling_ about that,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and fold his hands together.

Bucky narrows his eyes when Clint doesn't break his gaze. “I guess that would depend,” he says. 

Clint cocks his head to the side. “On what?”

“How many details Natasha gave you,” he says.

Clint shakes his head. “Just told me you remembered being at the fair with a girl…” Clint hesitates then adds, “That you wanted to marry. But not more than that.” He says the last part quickly before falling silent.

Bucky lets out a groan that has Clint’s eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. Bucky runs both his hands through his hair before dropping his forehead onto some stacked boxes.

They sit like that for a moment; Bucky’s face pressed against the cardboard and Clint fidgeting like a 3 year old, hands still clasped. “I have to be honest, friend, that was a stronger reaction than I expected,” Clint says finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky groans again. 

And then decides to use his big boy words. “Now that I know, I can't unknow it,” he says, lifting his head.

Clint’s face adopts a distinctly blank expression. “And Darcy - “

“No,” Bucky says quickly, shoving down the panic in his voice. Woah. That was not a good feeling. “That’s - no. It doesn't touch that.” Bucky has to fight a wince at the partial lie. Because it does, to a certain extent at least. Not in anyway he wants, but it touches every part of how he feels about that girl. Luckily, she has an uncanny ability to push away everything else. “But when she’s gone, I start to think about it again and I just want to know.” He sighs, “I didn’t get to decide how I feel about whatever happened because no one told me it had.” 

Clint doesn't say anything once more, gaze appraising. When he speaks, it’s measured. “Fact of the matter is, you lived a lot of life that you lost. I think there are a lot of things Steve kept from you because he didn't know if it was better or worse to really know how much you lost and some things - “

“He wanted proof if I was remembering,” Bucky interrupts quietly. 

Clint’s lips form a thin line, but the look isn't angry so much as resigned. Bucky is perplexed by this until Clint’s next words come out in one long string, “Every once in awhile you mention a teacher he didn't tell you about or place and it wasn't til Darcy got here that _you_ realized you were remembering and I'm gonna fucking having to work when your ass runs out of here to yell at Steve aren't I?”

Bucky is already moving toward the door as the last words tumble out. “It’s not like you have anything better to do, right,” Bucky says, clearly a statement as opposed to a question.

Clint nods, not looking as Bucky walks past him, grabbing his coat on the way to the door. “This is a fair point,” he says, tone adopting a resigned quality to match his expression.

Bucky almost takes the handle off when he shuts the door, left hand freezing around the metal. With some effort he unclenches his grip. Flexing his hand a few times to assure himself it has loosened up, a gust of wind thrusts the November air in his face. Bucky pauses, mind going back. 

People get so caught up in what he doesn’t remember, sometimes he thinks they forget what he does. His memories of winter were formed long before his lost years began. November air means shoveling twice as many driveways because Steve has pneumonia again and Sarah needs help with the gas bill. It’s staying an hour after his last period because Steve has debate club and got robbed the last three times he went home by himself once it starts getting dark earlier.

The memories cause a strange split feeling in his gut; a combination of understanding and a kind of betrayal. He begins moving as he mind starts to wander. He thinks about the anger he felt toward Natasha for keeping this secret from him a finds guilt broiling in his gut. Because, while Bucky had no double when they were at that fair that Natasha would know exactly what he was talking about, the fact of the matter is the majority of information she has is second hand from Steve. Whether gathered intentionally or overtime naturally, Bucky knows that Natasha is who Steve talked to back in the day when things weren’t going so well for Bucky.

Bucky tries to recall the answer he felt yesterday in order to direct it at Steve. But it isn’t the same. It can’t be. It’s like - it’s like his feelings are hurt. Which shouldn’t be such a revelation, but it is. The one person that was supposed to understand why Bucky needed to be told the truth was willfully participating in withholding key parts of his life from him.

Bucky reaches Steve’s office just before noon, when Steve usually tries to take his lunch break. At this point any anger he held previously has dissolved, leaving this strange hollow feeling where the split in his gut had been before. He walks up to Steve’s office door three times. Each time he freezes before his hand actually touches the handle and makes it halfway back to the elevator before turning around to repeat the process all over again. Bucky isn't sure what he wants from Steve, to be honest. Well, that’s a lie. He wants to know who she is. He knows Steve won't tell him. Bucky may have lost a lot, but he isn't naive. Not about Steve Rogers at least. The man lives by a code.

One of Steve’s associates finally pokes her head out of her office, directly across from Steve’s, on Bucky’s fourth pass. “Did you want to run a path in the carpet so we don't get lost? My you are such a sweet fellow,” Peggy Carter says, eyebrow arched.

Bucky gives her a sheepish grin, calculated just for dames like Peggy. Well, there aren’t many dames like Peggy. Still, she reminds him a bit of Darcy. She doesn’t beat around the bush. He likes that about her. “Got a bit of a bone to pick with our pal Steve in the there. Not sure how to go about it,” he tells her honestly.

Peggy nods, understanding evident in her eyes. No judgement. “Steve actually has a guest but I can't imagine he would mind you poking your head in,” she says honestly. Her tone is firm, encouraging, as if she’s made a choice for him.

Bucky spares her an appreciative smile. “Thanks Peggy,” he says.

The door is unlocked so Bucky goes on in, wholly unsurprised to see Pietro sitting across from Steve at his desk. Steve jerks when the door opens and out of the corner of Bucky’s eye he sees Pietro casually lean back in his chair, ready to survey their interaction it seems.

Bucky ignores the movement in favor of staring at Steve. He doesn’t say anything. In all honesty he isn’t sure what to say. The walk over knocked the wind right out of his sails and at this point he doesn’t know where to start.

Steve sighs and Bucky knows Natasha has spoken to him. “Buck - “

Bucky shakes his head, not entirely sure why. “Come on, Stevie.” The words slide past his lips and Bucky can’t remember intending to form them let alone engaging his vocal chords.

The color drains from Steve’s face as he slowly shakes his head. “I can't tell you,” and he sounds pained.

“Why the fuck not?” Bucky growls now.

Pietro clears his throat, clearly realizing this interaction doesn’t need an audience. “I’m going to let you two talk. I - “ he starts to stand and Bucky waves a hand at him, eyes still on Steve. To his credit, Pietro ignores him. “I’ll be over with Peggy while you two sort this out,” he finishes, voice rising in volume slightly to make sure he’s heard. Bucky can see Steve’s hard pressed smile as Pietro exits the office. Bucky slides to the side while Pietro pulls the door shut.

Steve is speaking as soon as it clicks. “She left for a reason, Bucky. To betray her trust would be disrespectful,” Steve says, meeting eyes with Bucky and staring him down.

Like when they were kids and Steve was smaller than Bucky. Same code at work.

Just like then, Bucky knows he isn't going to get anywhere with Steve’s resolved face. The words tumble out anyway, but his tone lacks any fight. “How could you not even let me know about something like that?” he asks.

Steve’s snort isn’t so much amused as amazed as he looks down at his desk. “There was a redhead too, Buck,” he says. Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “And a blonde. A couple blondes actually,” he finishes. 

Bucky’s face smooths over as he rolls his eyes. “Steve - “

“You lost _eight years_ ,” Steve cuts him off, voice rising in volume now too. He’s not yelling, but the words are firm. “That’s a lot of time, pal. Just because you remember this girl now doesn’t mean she was the only important thing that happened to you in that time,” he shrugs, “Just means she’s important enough to remember.” Bucky doesn’t miss his hands under the table. Fingers undoubtedly clenched. Steve doesn’t like keeping secrets. 

Somehow this knowledge doesn’t make it any better.

“You’re telling me I proposed to more dames in that time?” Bucky says, voice matching the deflated quality of his posture but his tone taking on a tired amusement.

Something in the tone must disarm Steve because he quirks his lips as he looks up at Bucky. “No other dames, but you did propose to _me_ once after I gave you a brownie I got from this kid in my chemistry class,” he says. “Always did wonder what was in that,” but his tone says he doesn’t wonder at all.

Bucky nods, smiling because he appreciates the information Steve is sharing but is unable to settle his mind. “I’ll see you later, Stevie,” he mutters suddenly, turning to open the door. He doesn’t close it behind him, and on his way down the hall he can hear Pietro’s hissed words after he goes back into Steve’s office. “You aren’t going to go after him?” he asks.

Steve’s words come quickly. “Bucky tends to disappear when people go after him,” he says, a sigh lacing every syllable. 

The words grow fainter as Bucky moves further away but he does hear one last question from Pietro followed quickly by Steve’s answer.

“Can you blame him?”

“No.”

With Clint already handling the shop, Bucky can’t bring himself to go back. 

He walks to Darcy’s apartment complex from there, as it’s not terribly far from Steve’s office. Outside he realizes he doesn’t know if she has class on Friday afternoon or not. Bucky decides to take his chances, buzzing up to her apartment. 

Darcy’s voice comes over the intercom moments later. “Hello?”

Bucky shifts from side to side. “Er, it’s me. Sorry to just drop by,” he says, but it’s excessive because Darcy’s hit the buzzer as soon as he says ‘me’.

Darcy is standing in her doorway when he comes out of the stairwell. “Well hello there,” she says and something in Bucky’s stomach loosens at the sight of her. She’s in yoga pants and a tank top, hair pulled into a messy pile. Completely at odds with his winter boots and heavy jacket. “What can I do ya for?” she asks.

The knot loosens more as Bucky approaches Darcy and by the time he reaches her he has a purpose. Fingers fastening around an arm she has braced against the doorframe, Bucky easily pulls Darcy off balance and against him. 

Darcy takes in a sharp breath as Bucky’s lips descend on her, surprise in her eyes but also excitement. The kiss is searing and Bucky is backing Darcy through the apartment door in no time. Noting the kitchen entrance immediately to their left and the clear island, Bucky points them that way while bending down to wrap his hands around the back of Darcy’s thighs. She squeals a little into their kiss until she's secured against his body, but soon he’s putting her down on the countertop.

Bucky tries to pull her back in for a deeper kiss, but Darcy’s hand between them on his chest stops him. 

“Whoa there, fella,” she says, hand pressing Bucky backward.

Bucky instinctively tries to put some genuine distance in there. “Oh shit,” he mutters, backing up quickly. Darcy’s hand closes around his left wrist before he can get too far. He looks down at her pale fingers wrapped around the metal and becomes fixed.

Darcy lets him stay in his own world for a few moments before her fingers squeeze and the sensors in Bucky’s arm alert him to the pressure change. “Whoa there, fella,” she says again but softer this time, her tone prodding. Darcy’s eyes search his face while she waits for him to say something.

After a few more moments Bucky sighs and crowds back into Darcy’s space, but this time he wraps his arms around her neck and presses against her in an embrace. Darcy seems to relax as soon as his arms lock around her and Bucky feels it reflect in his own muscles. “Sorry,” he sighs against the top of her head.

“Hey, no, I’ll never turn down a hot make-out session with my steamy man-friend,” she says, but there’s a strange kind of hesitation in her voice. “You, uh, you feel like telling me about it?” she prods softly. 

Bucky considers telling her some version of the truth, something to ease that last bit of tension because he can tell he freaked her out. When he opens his mouth a different truth comes out. “Rain check?”

There’s no hesitate in her voice this time when she speaks, “Of course.”

They stay like that for a few minutes; Bucky between Darcy’s legs with his arms wrapped around her body, hers around his waist. Breathing.

Suddenly, Bucky hears something crash from the direction of Jane’s room. When he pulls back and looks at Darcy, her eyes are closed as if she’s trying not to laugh. “Um…” he begins.

She slowly shakes her head. “Um, our dear Jane received a visitor at 3am,” she says, seeming to have genuine trouble keeping her voice even.

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “You don’t mean - “

“Oh I mean,” Darcy says, letting a few giggles out now. “Thor has come to town,” she pauses and then adds, “So he could come on everything else.”

Bucky has trouble holding back his own laugh at that. “So, what you’re saying is that noise is most likely the byproduct of their - “

“Nasty, sweaty, sexy time. Yes,” she says with a definitive nod.

Bucky gives Darcy a skeptical look. “Nasty? Jane?” he says.

Darcy’s amusement drops very suddenly. “If you saw that man you would let him put it anywhere,” she says, tone gravely serious.

Bucky snorts and Darcy dissolves into snickers as he speaks. “I’ll try not to bend over right when I meet him. I’ll give it ten, maybe fifteen minute,” he says, overcome with the urge to poke her in the side. The movement triggers the memory from the fair again and Bucky has to fight down any visible reaction. As if reading his emotions, if not his mind, Darcy leans forward in the midst of their laughter and kisses him. It isn’t like the kiss they shared when he showed up to the apartment. This one is soft, peaceful.

“I missed you,” Darcy says against Bucky’s lips.

He pulls back from her, mere centimeters, to look her in the face. “I saw you this morning,” he reminds her, pulling himself further into her space nonetheless.

Darcy reaches up and touches the left side of his face, fingers starting at the top before running down his cheek to his jaw, eyes following after her touch. Her gaze is serious behind her contented expression. “Oh yeah? Felt like longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I really will do my damnedest to have the next chapter out as soon as possible! Thank you all so much for sticking with me.


	4. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the shop Clint catches Bucky as he heads for the door, Darcy resolutely continuing out into the cold air. “Woah, you okay?” he asks._
> 
> _Bucky tightens his jaw, rolling the words over and disliking how they taste. “Do me a favor man, ask your spider. I don't know what she was going for there, but it wasn't her best play.” Bucky leaves the shop then, Natasha having slipped out of his office already. Darcy is waiting for him when he gets outside._
> 
> _“Okay, we need to eat,” she says._
> 
> _Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “Don't you have to work on some stuff on campus?” he says distractedly, remembering her plans from earlier._
> 
> _“Oh honey,” Darcy laughs as she says the words but somehow they're pitying. “It’s relationship rules. When one of you looks like that, the other has to clear their schedule if at all possible.”_
> 
> _Bucky can hear the amusement in her voice, but there's also a strong quality of resignation. He wonders what she thinks happened in that room. In that moment Bucky knows he needs to tell Darcy something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more allow me to apologize for the extremely delayed posting of a chapter. 
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and thank you to everyone for sticking around!

Saturday:

Bucky doesn't stay at Darcy’s long on Friday. She has a paper, a “bitch of a thing” she “should have started three weeks ago”. It isn't the first instance in the short time they've been dating that she's had something like this, so he's understanding. But something about the look in her eyes makes him uneasy.

He isn't the only one ghosting the morning. Bucky gets to the shop at 4:30 on the dot but the lights are already on. Clint is behind the counter setting up.

Bucky sighs, stripping his coat and scarf as the door swings shut behind him. “Come on, man. I thought you came home last night,” he says. He ducks into his office to throw his things on the desk before joining Clint behind the counter. 

Clint shrugs, pouring Bucky a cup from a small pot he's already made. “I closed up but I didn't want to go home so I - “

“Passed out on the couch in the office,” Bucky finishes, taking the cup Clint holds out to him.

Clint shrugs, “Well, yeah.”

Bucky takes a sip. He lets the words hang in the air before beginning slowly, “I don't think I've seen you at home since - “

It’s Clint’s turn to interrupt. “Phil’s heart attack,” he finishes for the other man.

Bucky nods. “Well yeah,” he repeats.

Clint runs a hand over his head, eyes hitting the ground. “Thing is, seems I have trouble sleeping without him,” he admits before starting to fiddle with the position of the syrups behind the bar. “So I make busy work and I've been falling asleep a lot of places.”

“Mostly?”

“Natasha’s couch. I haven't wanted to bother you two.”

Bucky sighs. “Come home. Pass out on our couch. I'll keep you company when _I_ can't sleep,” he says, reaching his right arm out to jostle Clint's shoulder.

Clint smiles, head still ducked. “Fair enough.” After a moment he clears his throat. “Okay, so what the fuck is going on with Steve and when did Pete come back?” he asks and Bucky is reminded that Clint was around for that. Oh, was he around for that.

“Kid got a job here and Steve called him,” Bucky explains, shrugging.

Clint arches an eyebrow. “With the secret and previously nonexistent number?”

Bucky can't help a small grin. “Wanda called Steve,” he says.

“You mean the little crimson sorceress?” Clint asks, other eyebrow coming up to meet the first. With her primarily red wardrobe and uncanny ability to get what she wanted, Clint had been calling her that for years.

Bucky nods. “One and the same,” he says.

“Why?” Clint asks.

Once more, Bucky shrugs, mouth pressing into a thin-lipped smile. “I really couldn’t tell you, pal. All Steve said was she called, told him Pete is working in town now,” he says.

Clint’s face doesn't relax as he processes this information. Idly, Bucky shuffles through his memories of Clint’s involvement in this situation. Because of his familiarity with Pietro it’s easy to forget which sibling Clint interacted with more. Pietro wouldn’t speak to Wanda when he was living at Steve’s. She’d kicked him out and he was angry. But he was still her brother, even if he was a few minutes older than her. Wanda worried about him. She would come into the shop when Bucky wasn’t working the register. He assumed because she had less chance of running into Steve.

Wanda would come in, order a cup of coffee hesitantly, then sit by the window casting glances at the register until she would finally sigh and leave. Usually Bucky was in the back when this went on. Clint would come tell him about it afterward. One day, when Clint brought Wanda her coffee, he took a seat across from her. Bucky isn’t sure exactly what he said, Clint isn’t the most straightforward storyteller. But, essentially, if she wanted to know how her brother was doing she should just ask. He told her if it wasn’t why she was there, that was fine. She could keep coming in and sitting in the corner, staring at him. But, if she wanted to take an interest, she should just own up to that. 

At the time, Clint said he barely made it behind the bar before she was back at the counter, a resolved look in her eyes. Afterward, she kept coming in every few days when it was slow and Clint was working. She would ask him how her brother was doing. He would tell her whatever he knew.

A thought crosses Bucky’s mind and he frowns. “You haven't talked to her recently, have you?” he asks. 

Clint doesn't answer at first and Bucky sighs. Clint’s next words come out quickly, “He stopped talking to her after Steve called things off and I always felt guilty. She kept coming into the shop for a few weeks after the trial so I - “

“Wait,” Bucky interrupts Clint, his words catching up with the information Bucky has. “If he hasn't talked to her since his trial how did she know - “

Clint cuts him off with a frustrated grunt. “I’m getting to that!” Bucky arches an eyebrow but otherwise doesn't comment further. “Thank you,” Clint says after a few moments. “I’d tell her when I saw Pete around. He was still in town and we were still on good terms. When he left I just...kept telling her where he was and - “

“When he moved back here you told her that too,” Bucky finishes for him.

Clint shrugs. “Well, yeah,” he says, not sheepish in the least.

Bucky runs a hands over his face. “Don’t tell me. She thinks if they get together he’ll start talking to her again?”

Clint shrugs. “Maybe, but she’s been working this one for a while. Before that last blow-out with her and Pete.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “Working it? Like...planning?” He shakes his head. “Dude, that’s weird,” he says, ducking down to start filling the pastry case for the day.

Clint rolls his eyes. “It’s a little out of the ordinary but I wouldn’t say weird,” he says. Bucky pauses in his movements to stare at Clint. Clint sighs. “Okay, it’s weird. But she cares about her brother and Steve’s a good guy. Who wouldn’t want the best for someone they love?”

Bucky goes back to his task. “It’s not about keeping tabs on her brother or even telling Steve he’s here. It’s about whatever she said to him back then. We both saw him that morning, he was set. Big ol’ fucking grin, more than ready to take the job Murdock had been offering him for months and tell Stark to go fuck himself.”

Clint kneels down to help Bucky with the last of the baked goods. “You know what she said she - “

Bucky shakes his head. “I know she told Steve that Pete needed to grow up. But what the _fuck_ made that stubborn piece of shit listen?”

Clint sits back on his heels. He’s quiet for a few moments before he speaks. “I think that girl is ridiculously good at reading people,” he begins. His next words are almost unnervingly accurate. “I think it took Steve longer to get control of everything he took on then he’s willing to admit and I think Wanda saw that,” he finishes with another shrug before going back to arranging pound cake by complimentary flavor.

Bucky isn’t sure what to say after that. It makes sense, it really does. But, “It’s still weird.”

Clint snorts, “Yeah, it’s weird.”

Darcy walks into the shop around ten Saturday morning and a knot of tension in Bucky’s gut loosens. She’s carrying her laptop case, her book bag, and she looks in desperate need of coffee.

Darcy drops her things at her favorite table then walks over to slump against the bar. “I know we've talked IV before, but I think it’s time for some field trials,” she says, holding out her arm.

Bucky chuckles, sliding an iced coffee toward her open hand “No sleep?” he asks.

Darcy shakes her head, staring blankly at the wall behind Bucky, “Not a lick.” She takes the cup from the counter and puts the straw to her lips. The contented ‘mmmm’ sound that follows hits Bucky from the top of his head to the tips of his toes like a blanket of warmth. 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

Darcy straightens up, straw not drifting too far from her mouth. “I have the introduction and research all laid out, but I still have to complete the literature review, the results, and the discussion section,” she says, as if she is sifting through a to-do list in her head. “I should have just enough time to do all of that before it’s due Monday morning,” she finishes with a definitive nod.

Bucky arches an eyebrow, “It’ll take you two days to finish that?” he asks.

Darcy shrugs. “My hope is I’ll actually get some sleep tonight so when I say ‘just enough’ I think I mean, ‘Just enough time to do that and the things I like doing on the weekends that keep me distracted’,” she says.

“Do I count as - “

“Yes,” she cuts him off with a tired wink before heading back to her table.

Bucky watches her walk away; all swaying hips even if she doesn't intend to strut. As is typical for moments like these, Bucky is hit with a wave of something warm and calm in his gut. 

Around noon the bell above the door rings. Bucky meets eyes with Steve when he walks in. 

Steve glances at Darcy. Her gaze hasn’t come up from her keyboard. He seems satisfied. He nods toward Bucky’s office, walking that way himself. Bucky takes a quick inventory of the shop to confirm everything is in order before turning to Clint.

“You mind?”

“Nah. Go hug it out.”

Inside, Steve closes Bucky’s office door. “Hey there, pal. Should I be worried?” Bucky asks cautiously, moving toward the couch.

Steve shakes his head, following and dropping down opposite Bucky. “No. I just - “ He sighs, seeming to consider something. Finally he speaks. “I won't tell you who she is.” The words are firm. They stand on their own as a statement. Bucky supposes they do. He has known Steve long enough to wait. Patience is key. “I won't tell you who she is, but I will tell you something about her,” he says after a few moments. 

Bucky freezes. “What?”

Steve sighs. “I mean, you remembered her, right? So it’s shitty of me not to recognize that as the big deal it is,” he says, and there's a bit of that Steve-pride under his anxiety. Almost like excitement. 

Not for the first time since Bucky remembers delicate arms around his waist does he realize how incredible this is. He looks down at his left hand, braced next to him on the couch cushion. He remembers the feel of his skin touching her skin…

Bucky shakes his head. “I remember all the time, apparently,” he mutters. He doesn't mean for the words to sound bitter, but they do.

“Yeah, am I going to be working with pity party Bucky all night or are you planning to grow up at some point?” Steve asks. In that moment he sounds so tired Bucky sighs.

“Yeah, okay, what?”

Steve takes his words at face value; the last of Bucky’s petulance. “The year after you opened the shop,” he begins and Bucky feels his stomach dive in anticipation of the next words. “Before Pete’s trial, when everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, she stopped in to see me.”

Bucky swallows hard. “Stopped in?”

Steve shifts in his seat, a telltale sign of anxiety, but his face doesn't give. “I was doing some paperwork on a case, she showed up.”

Bucky can't move. Well, he can. But he feels as if he's daring his limbs not to. “It was her. The arms. It was - “

“She wanted to come back to school here in town. She - “

“Back?” Bucky cuts Steve off. “School. I met her in school,” he says.

Steve nods in confirmation. It isn't that Bucky is amazed or surprised by this knowledge. It has more to do with the feeling that comes with the realization. As if something is slotting into place.

Bucky’s mind turns the information over repeatedly before he finally asks, “What did you say?”

“I told her to go fuck herself,” Steve says without an ounce of hesitation.

Steve’s words are like a rock dropping in Bucky’s stomach; there’s relief and disappointment and confusion and anxiety all rolled into one. His face must reflect his reaction because Steve’s own expression shifts.

“Coming back into your life isn't just some pet project she can pick up,” he says, but he looks apologetic as he says it. “She left so suddenly after your accident…”

Steve trails off when Bucky sinks against the back of the couch. “So it was my accident.” It isn't a question so much as confirmation. 

Steve sighs. “Look,” he pauses thinking. “I don't know what you remember about her - “

“Nothing. I have nothing else. Have you been paying any attention?”

“ - but,” Steve continues after the interruption as if Bucky doesn't say anything, “She was young. Eighteen when you met and nineteen when you lost your memory. I think running was more than understandable.” He pauses to take a breath. “I was too wrapped up in my own stuff. The way I reacted wasn't fair to her and you shouldn't be angry at her - “

“Angry?” Bucky interrupts Steve, repeating the word as if it's the first time he's heard it. He's been so focused on the who of everything and what he could have felt for this person. He’s run over the emotions that felt so achingly fresh just two days ago so many times they've already begun to mutate into an echo. In all of it, he hasn’t spent much time on his feelings toward her leaving specifically. 

Steve arches an eyebrow. “Oh I'm sorry, did you get so distracted by being indignant you forgot that little fact?” he asks, voice back on the defensive in an instance.

Bucky smiles. It isn't kind, but it isn't bitter. More resigned than anything else. “Yeah actually,” he admits simply, shrugging.

Steve stares at Bucky for a few moments, eyes hard. When he joins the defeated sagging against the back of the couch, he bumps their shoulders. “I'm not saying she didn't care about you, Buck,” Steve says. “But you can't sit in your hovel imagining some grand romance you missed out on because we didn't give you a play by play of the moments you lost in your life,” he says.

Bucky is fighting a mixture of shame and further indignation. It’s an interesting feeling. Logically, he knows he can't carry around this grudge directed at people that love him. On the other hand, he can't shake the feeling they're keeping something very important from him in this forgotten connection.

Steve's final words seal Bucky in his tomb of guilt. “I can understand trying to make up for the past, I really can,” he nudges Bucky’s shoulder again. “But you can't alienate the people that stayed in favor of someone that didn’t.” Bucky locks eyes with him as Steve finishes, “And I will be goddamned if you hurt that girl out there in your quest for someone that essentially doesn't exist anymore.”

Bucky feels how protective his friends are of Darcy like an anchor. It fastens him to the ground and reminds him of what his life was before. He can't think of anything more eloquent in reply than to nod. It’s enough for Steve, who claps Bucky on the back a moment later before standing. Bucky follows thoughtlessly, mind still running over Steve’s pointed information.

Coming out of the office Bucky is surprised to see Pietro standing at the counter talking to Clint, heads bowed together as they laugh about something Clint is showing Pietro on his phone. It isn't that the two are talking, it's simply Pietro standing in the shop like it's the most natural thing in the world. Bucky is so distracted by the scene, it takes him longer than it should to register Steve. Shoulders hunched, hands clenched, stock-still…

“You know they never fucked, right?” Bucky says quietly, mind drifting back to a scene just a few years ago. Clint and Pietro curled together on the very couch that is currently occupied by two giggling undergrads. 

The words have the desired effect and Steve’s body loosens. “I know,” he sighs, shaking his head.

Bucky takes this as his cue to move behind the counter _loudly_. Clint’s head pops up from his phone screen. “Hey there, man. How’s it going?”

True to everything that is wonderful about Steve, he doesn't hesitate when he answers with a smile, “Not bad at all. Though I'm pretty sure if I don't eat something soon that answer is going to change.”

Pietro perks up. “This would be where I come in,” he says, pushing away from the counter. He heads toward Steve and grabs his arm. There it is. Clint may be oblivious, but Bucky has no doubt Pietro remembers that fight all too well. Even if quite some time has passed.

In an instant Steve’s gaze flips from hard to mooning. “Oh yeah?” he prods, eyes raking over Pietro’s face. Unconsciously hungry but with a fondness to it.

Pietro nods, seeming not to notice. “You’re coming over and I'm cooking,” he declares, grin large.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “So we’re ordering pizza?”

Pietro shoves Steve’s shoulder playfully. “Give me a shot before you make fun of my cooking prowess,” he says. “It’s changed quite a bit in the last few years,” he adds.

Steve puts his hands up. “Who am I to say you can't do anything you set your mind to,” he says with a wink. 

Pietro begins to crowd Steve toward to front door. “Go on. We don't want to deal with the wrath of a hungry Steve Rogers,” he says.

Steve’s voice pitches low, lower than Bucky can hear. He doesn't miss the blush that climbs up the back of Pietro’s neck. Steve returns to normal volume to say goodbye and the two exit the shop.

Bucky glances toward Darcy after they leave. Her headphones are still in but she winks and he knows there's no music playing.

Little eavesdropper.

Bucky shakes his head before grabbing a refill and heading her way. 

Darcy pulls out her headphones as he approaches. “Sexy man sighting,” she says, taking the proffered drink.

“Where?” Bucky asks, but he leans down toward her with a smile and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I'm gonna lock myself away to get my stocking order in before the deadline,” he says. “You should stick your head in before you leave but - “

“Otherwise you'll see me for dinner,” Darcy finishes for him, wrinkling her nose playfully after. “The things I put up with.”

Sitting in front of the computer screen, spreadsheet in front of him, Bucky has as much difficulty concentrating as ever. The numbers become years, dates. Fraught with meaning that isn't there. He connects items he's ordering with memories he associates with them. It's an endless string of anxiety and frustration as he tries, reflexively, to connect these words with memories from before his accident.

So lost in thought, when he hears the door open just as he’s typing in his final numbers, he assumes it’s Darcy.

Bucky has one more set to send in if he can just get the quantities right. He doesn't speak, ready to say goodbye or listen to Darcy’s tirade should she so choose.

“You can't stay mad at me forever,” Natasha says from the doorway of Bucky’s office. He’s just pressing send on that order. 

Bucky freezes in his chair, honestly not expecting her to come by so quickly with the ‘forevers’. He wants to tell her he has long since lost the steam he needs to stay angry at her. Now he’s mostly wrung out. “You're right, that would take a lot of energy,” he says instead.

Natasha steps into the office. “Good, I’m glad we agree,” she says, but she’s watching him like she knows they don’t agree.

Bucky shakes his head. “You can’t come in and try and be fucking cute, Tash,” he says, frown adamant. 

Natasha nods. “I know. I know you’re angry and really do understand,” she says. For a moment he thinks she’s going to stop there, that this is truly an apology. But that wouldn’t be true to who Natasha is. “Which is why I’m hoping you’ll hear me out,” she says.

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ, don’t do this,” he says by way of an answer.

Natasha perches in one of the chairs across the desk from Bucky. “You aren’t just a little curious about _why_ I didn’t tell you?” she says, essentially ignoring him.

Bucky frowns. “Because you wanted to see if I fucking remembered shit,” he snaps. Then he sighs. “And because Steve wanted to be fucking respectful,” he says, remembering their conversation from Steve’s office a few days before.

Natasha nods. “Yeah, those are Steve’s reasons,” she says. Bucky’s frown deepens. Natasha leans forward. “You know me well enough to know I have my own reason for doing everything,” she says.

“Are we sharing or playing keep-away?” Bucky snaps impatiently.

“She told me she didn’t want you to remember her as the girl that ran away,” she says and there goes that rock in Bucky’s stomach again. Pinging around this time.

He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “She - when - “

“After she decided to leave, she came by my apartment,” Natasha says.

It takes a moment for Bucky to realize that the noise getting louder is blood pumping in his ears. “You - um, I didn’t know you then,” he says. Even as the words leave his mouth they feel stupid. One lie is really a drop in the bucket. But - “You, um, you guys told me that Bruce and Steve started living together after my accident,” he says.

Natasha’s eyebrows knit together as she watches Bucky clasp and unclasp his hands. “That’s true,” she says. Her voice has a forced note of calm to it, as if she’s hoping he’ll follow suit. “They moved in together after your accident. But you and I met before - “

“While we were in college,” Bucky interrupts. Something is tightening in his chest uncomfortably. He both wishes Natasha would get to the point and wishes she would stop.

Natasha watches him closely as she speaks. “Yes,” she says slowly, still affecting a calming tone, “But we didn’t only have a class together,” she says slowly. “We knew each other all through school.”

The blood in Bucky’s ears is getting louder. He doesn’t think he feels unnaturally upset as the words come out of her mouth, but he’s getting warmer and his chest is tightening further. “But - why wouldn’t you tell me that? Why would you keep that from me?” he says, voice shaky to his own ears.

“Because, it wasn’t like Steve, where you remembered him from before. You had no idea who I was. And everything happened so fast. One day you were in the hospital and then one day you were gone. It was a year before Steve pulled you out and a year before you were coherent enough to _NOT_ throw-up in my car when he sent me for you. When was I supposed to -- “

“Any time in the resulting five years of our friendship,” Bucky bites out. “Really anywhere in there would have been fine.”

Natasha sighs. “I know. But it never _felt_ like the right time and the longer I waited the harder it got - “

“So you thought, fuck it, he already doesn’t know what he needs to remember. We can just start fresh,” he interrupts mockingly. 

Natasha lets out a growl. “Bucky, stop it!” she says, voice rising in frustration.

At first Bucky barely registers the name, blood still filling his ears with noise. But he hears it, he most certainly does. Following the feeling it triggers is a bit like pulling on a loose thread. A feeling of familiarity he can't remember experiencing. It starts to unravel -

They met freshman year.

_”This seat taken?”_

_“It is now.”_

_“That cocky shit ever really work?”_

_“You're talking to me, aren't you?”_

They were together on and off through sophomore and junior year. 

_”Christ, how can you still be pulling this shit?”_

_“It was an accide - “_

_“I swear, if you finish that sentence I will rip your balls off.”_

They were close, they understood each other, but they knew they couldn't make it work. In that way kids just know. 

_”We’re okay, right?”_

_“Yeah. I mean, sure, I think so.”_

There was nothing malicious behind their actions...but there wasn’t anything pulling them toward each other. Nothing but social acceptability that caused them guilt.

_”You promised Tash. You promised you’d try. I have to find out from him?”_

_“I didn’t mean for that to happen. But what am I supposed to do with those feelings; let them wither and die?”_

While they were together, Natasha only called him Bucky when she was angry. Otherwise, she’s always called him James. Otherwise…

 _”You must think I'm a fucking idiot, Bucky,”_ as soon as the word tumbles out of Natasha’s mouth he knows she's heard. 

Bucky sighs. _”Come on, Nat - “_ he says.

Natasha cuts him off. _”Don't, 'Come on, Nat’ me,”_ she says, shaking her head. _”It’s a testament to how much I love you that I'm not hold your balls in my hand right now,”_ she bites out.

Bucky gulps unconsciously. _”Who - “_ he starts.

Natasha rolls her eyes. _”I’m sorry, did you want to know who watched you push her into her dorm room?”_ she asks, eyebrow arched.

Bucky feels his face go beet red, partially out of embarrassment and partially out of anger. _”Did you wanna know who watched you and Bruce in the biology building?”_ he snaps.

Natasha goes pale. When her eyes fill with tears Bucky deflates. Natasha doesn't cry. _”Nat?”_ he says softly.

Natasha pulls in a breath and she’s the girl he’s known since freshman year. Strong but with a quality a bit like glass. _”He's sick. He's sick and I'm wasting my fucking time,”_ she says. 

Bucky wasn't expecting that. _”What do you mean he’s sick?”_ he asks.

Natasha shakes her head. _”I don't know. I don't - “_ she cuts off before taking a breath. _”But I know that we’re both feeding on each other in the worst fucking way. That girl is sweet and kind and you blew her off because you feel guilty?”_ She shakes her head again, vigorously this time. _”No, get the fuck over it. We both need to get the fuck over it.”_

Natasha storms out after that, heading straight for Bruce's house Bucky is sure.

Bucky pulls back to the present when Darcy’s voice filters into his mind. 

“Ah shit, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just came to tell you I'm leaving,” she says. Bucky locks eyes with her and something in her gaze sinks. “Dude, what’s up?”

Bucky gulps when he hears Natasha take in a breath. “I think I might leave with you,” he says quickly, already moving to grab his coat off the hook.

“Come on James, you can't just leave. This is - “ she starts.

“I'm not talking about this right now, Nat,” Bucky snaps. He can feels Darcy’s eyes on him as he heads for the door.

In the shop Clint catches Bucky as he heads for the door, Darcy resolutely continuing out into the cold air. “Woah, you okay?” he asks.

Bucky tightens his jaw, rolling the words over and disliking how they taste. “Do me a favor man, ask your spider. I don't know what she was going for there, but it wasn't her best play.” Bucky leaves the shop then, Natasha having slipped out of his office already. Darcy is waiting for him when he gets outside. 

“Okay, we need to eat,” she says.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “Don't you have to work on some stuff on campus?” he says distractedly, remembering her plans from earlier.

“Oh honey,” Darcy laughs as she says the words but somehow they're pitying. “It’s relationship rules. When one of you looks like that, the other has to clear their schedule if at all possible.”

Bucky can hear the amusement in her voice, but there's also a strong quality of resignation. He wonders what she thinks happened in that room. In that moment Bucky knows he needs to tell Darcy something.

He isn't ready to tell her about the arms. But he'll tell her why it looks like Natasha cracked his world. Because she did a little bit.

“Why don't I tell you about it while I make dinner. This kind of information deserves food,” he agrees and even he hears the exhaustion that laces his tone.

Darcy furrows her eyebrows. “Should I be anxious?” she asks, sounding exactly that.

Bucky slings an arm around her neck as they walk. “Nah. Just think of it as the ever unfolding drama in the life of, ‘Bone Dry’.” At his words, Darcy relaxes into his side.


	5. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You know,” Darcy begins, filling in the silence quickly. “After I met her, when you were passed out in bed and we were talking, she and I talked about your - “ she pauses, waving her hand at him. “Whatever, when you were sick, she called it a ‘comfort’.” Bucky nods, he remembers hearing that part of the conversation. He isn’t sure what of that his face reflects but Darcy pauses noticeably and arches an eyebrow before continuing with a shake of her head, “I think…maybe - “ Darcy wiggles her nose watching him carefully. “I think maybe she missed you and she didn't know what to do with that,” she finishes quickly._
> 
> _Bucky growls, “So she gets to use me to - “_
> 
> _“No but she’s a fucking person, dude,” Darcy cuts in quickly. “As fearless as she’s supposed to be, even ninjas have their breaking point remember?”_
> 
> _Bucky’s next angry words, whatever they may have been, die in his chest. Right. A person. People make mistakes. The thought that follows is so jarring he knows nothing other than the need to let it out, “I'm just so tired of being the outcome of people’s mistakes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. I want to thank you for the lovely reviews! They always come at just the right time. I can honestly say I return to the story every time I receive a review or kudos with renewed excitement for what could happen next. They are my life's blood and you feed me, so that's wicked.
> 
> I would very much like to thank LenaTheElf for being the first person to leave a review after my father passed away in November. Their kind words put them on the receiving end of what I worried was a very awkward situation. However, they handled it with utter grace and understanding. I am continuously reminded of how grateful I am for this fandom. <3
> 
> In that vein I would like to thank my amazing beta, TeaAndTricks, for sifting through my shambles of a word document whenever I add new bits of story to explain edits they might suggest. I am so grateful for the time and energy that's been spent on my little story and I SERIOUSLY hope finding stuff out early helps considering how much work you have to put in. <3
> 
> Okay, mushy is over I hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).

Sunday:

For a long time after the accident Bucky dreamed of remembering his life; the formative years that really shaped his personality. Before Steve and Natasha could fill him in on some of the key details, he wondered how he became who he was. His mind didn't seem to understand how to make peace with Bucky as a teenager compared to his post-accident self at times so it filled in the holes.

Honestly, he still has a lot of these dreams. Repeats that play again and again over the years, only altering slightly. Brain filling holes with distorted perceptions, people and places where they shouldn't be. 

Thing is...that’s what he thought. When he sees Bruce sitting next to him in art history class before the building becomes a disco, he doesn't spend a lot of time focusing on the Bruce part. He’s pretty distracted by the disco. 

Because Bruce isn't there and that part doesn't matter.

It doesn’t matter when he’s looking down at a gravestone, a heavy rectangular thing with his uncle’s name printed on it, and he takes Natasha’s hand before she turns into water. Again, not too focused on Natasha in that section of his mind specifically. 

But, see, now he’s remembering that his mother said her brother died his sophomore year and all he can do is lay out the timeline that tells him Natasha probably did visit the gravesite with him before they broke up.

Now? Now he doesn't know. 

Bucky does his best to peel back the layers of their conversations. To find the hidden meaning in her words all this time. He goes around and around for so long his head starts to hurt. Looking at actions through angles he rarely lets himself. Trying to find the woman that’s been hiding his past. For the life of him he can't. But he can’t shake the anger either.

His questions were seemingly random firings all Saturday evening that continue into Sunday morning. No pretense or warning, rhyme or reason. Just there, startling the shit out of his girlfriend.

Last night Natasha had called Bucky six or seven times and Darcy’s lip was in a constant state of worry between her teeth. Their conversation replays in Bucky’s head.

“Look, I'm not saying what she did isn't terrible,” Darcy said after Bucky had ignored yet another one of Natasha’s calls. “But what was she supposed to do?” she asked.

Bucky was already talking before her mouth shut. “She was supposed to not let me put myself through all of that _shit_ over her. She was supposed to say, ‘Hey, we already did this and it was a fucking mess - “

“Because it was, right,” Darcy interrupted, “A fucking mess I mean?” she clarified.

Bucky paused when the words came out and like a brick to the head he suddenly realized what he was doing. “It was awful,” he said calmly, focusing on Darcy then and the way she was fidgeting. “We started at 18, it was our first relationship in college, and we cheated on each other constantly.”

Darcy nodded and Bucky couldn't decide if he should have kept the cheating part to himself. She was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke again her opinion hadn't changed much. “I think that’s easier said than done, dude,” she said. “It’s one thing to sit here and know, looking back, that things were handled badly. But hindsight is 20/20 and all that,” she finished with a shrug.

Instinctively Bucky fights the words now. He's angry and he wants to be angry. But they nag at him. 

Darcy’s soft breathing reminds him of how they ended their night and for a moment he’s frustrated with his active libido. She shifts next to Bucky in bed. A little sigh slips past her lips. He’s transfixed. Fuck it. It isn't that his new worries disappear at the reminder of her or she makes him forget his cycling fears. But they do fade to the background, worries and fears a distant whisper making way for _claviclehipsthighs_ as he ducks under the covers and slides down her body.

Darcy’s fingers thread in Bucky’s hair and her back arches off the bed, slingshotting his consciousness out of it’s haze. Hand around his dick, he lets out a long groan when her knees clench on either side of his head as she comes. The vibration he causes against her clit pulls a whine from her and Bucky comes a second later.

Bucky takes a moment to lay there, face down in Darcy’s thigh, before the tissue box hits his shoulder. He chuckles and presses a kiss to her skin, sitting up to deal with the mess he’s made.

“Good morning,” Darcy sighs out, stretching her arms above her head.

Bucky, attempting to wipe the cum from his hand and stomach while he pointedly doesn't think about the sheet, can’t help the bright smile that pulls across his face. “G’Morning,” he says.

Darcy doesn't even open her eyes. “I’ll throw the sheets in if you make breakfast,” she says. Bucky’s next kiss makes it to Darcy’s lips and she smiles against his mouth, “You taste like vagina.”

Bucky snorts. “I'll go ahead and wash my face before I make us food,” he says before pecking her lips once more.

True to her words, Darcy strips the bed while Bucky makes breakfast. He figures french toast is a good ‘thanks for washing the cum off my sheets’ breakfast. The sausage and eggs add a nice ‘I also appreciate you letting me make you orgasm’ touch.

It doesn't even take all morning for the faded echoes of old-turned-new memories to swing back to full consciousness. They settle in right about the time Bucky checks his phone to see Natasha has called a few times today as well.

“Why now?” Bucky asks at the kitchen table. They’re both in the middle of cutting into their food and he can tell his question startles Darcy.

She barely misses a beat. “Why now the memories?” she asks. 

He nods. “Why not before when everything was happening? When things should have reminded me? Why years later?”

Darcy cuts her food as she speaks. “You said your memory is a psychological thing, right? Psycho-eeer-” she waves her butter knife at him.

“Genic,” Bucky finishes for her.

Darcy nods. “Yeah, psychogenic amnesia, that. So,” she pauses to take a bite of french toast. She starts to speak again then pauses once more to groan. Bucky chuckles but otherwise waits for her to continue. “Sorry. Okay. So maybe your brain wasn't ready for that stuff.” She pauses again before saying the next part and it isn't about food this time. “You lost it all for a reason. That’s how that kind of amnesia works, right?” she says.

Bucky smiles, looking down at his plate. “You do make a good point,” he says, trying to ignore the tinge of bitterness he hears.

“But hey,” she says quickly. “You’re remembering now, which is amazing and means your brain is doing things. Good things. Healing things.”

In that moment he wants to tell her. He wants to shed the burden of the mystery girl and lay all his cards out on the table. He just can't seem to make his mouth agree with him. Instead he returns to his broken record, but he makes an attempt at a new track.

He pauses, trying to think of the best way to explain how he’s feeling. After a moment he settles for the closest approximation he can find. “You know those friends you have that have been around for so long they almost become a fixture in your life - almost like family that you may or may not have touched naked?” The last part is a quick added ramble, but he feels it still applies.

Darcy stares at him with an arched eyebrow for a solid 7 seconds before he sees the blush creep up her neck and she nods.

Bucky shifts back and forth in his seat, trying to ignore his curiosity. Later. Not now. Come on man. “Well Natasha and I were on our way there. She was a fixture in my life, damn near family.“ Bucky shakes his head. “But the Natasha I've known for the last few years...she’s never felt like family. I didn’t even know how distant I felt, how uncomfortable - “ Bucky cuts himself off.

“You know,” Darcy begins, filling in the silence quickly. “After I met her, when you were passed out in bed and we were talking, she and I talked about your - “ she pauses, waving her hand at him. “Whatever, when you were sick, she called it a ‘comfort’.” Bucky nods, he remembers hearing that part of the conversation. He isn’t sure what of that his face reflects but Darcy pauses noticeably and arches an eyebrow before continuing with a shake of her head, “I think…maybe - “ Darcy wiggles her nose watching him carefully. “I think maybe she missed you and she didn't know what to do with that,” she finishes quickly.

Bucky growls, “So she gets to use me to - “

“No but she’s a fucking person, dude,” Darcy cuts in quickly. “As fearless as she’s supposed to be, even ninjas have their breaking point remember?”

Bucky’s next angry words, whatever they may have been, die in his chest. Right. A person. People make mistakes. The thought that follows is so jarring he knows nothing other than the need to let it out, “I'm just so tired of being the outcome of people’s mistakes.”

As soon as the phrase tumbles past his lips Bucky feels a series of sharp pricks at the back of his eyes. The feeling confuses him, so foreign and unnerving yet oddly familiar. The sob that comes next is so sudden it fills the room and Bucky widens his eyes in surprise. _Where the fuck did that come from?_ It takes him another moment to register the absolute heartbreak on Darcy’s face followed by the realization that he’s shaking.

“Oh baby,” Darcy whispers, reaching for him.

Bucky darts his eyes around the kitchen wildly, consciously clawing for something but entirely unsure what. Like gasping for air when he’s breathing perfectly fine...for all intents and purposes. He registers as Darcy’s hands press to his cheek, sweep his hair off his forehead, brush a tear from under his eye. “Darcy?” He sounds confused, even to his own ears, as if her name were ripped from his throat.

Darcy’s hands begin a steady flutter across his face and upper body as she positions them closer together. She wraps her arms around him after not too long. “I'm so so sorry, baby,” she whispers into Bucky’s temple as he shudders against her, still mostly confused but having trouble following any train of thought that begins.

Bucky’s mind tries to fight through the fog as his body gives into it. His movements almost involuntary. As Bucky fights the emotions, Darcy pulls him in with steady mumbling, “I'm so so sorry, baby. So sorry.” The words become a mantra of sorts, repeated until Bucky’s body quiets. When the intense and sudden sorrow finally subsides, Bucky realizes the coffee cup he’d been holding is now porcelain shards in his left hand. He’s wound his arms around Darcy’s body and has his face pressed to her chest. Her fingers run a rhythm through his hair. He straightens up, letting the shards go over a plate of mostly finished food.

Bucky runs his right hand over his face, trying to shake himself back to something resembling human. “I have to get to the shop,” he says, voice raw and congested at the same time. Cool.

Darcy shakes her head and slides her phone across the table. A text conversation between she and Clint stares back at him:

**Can you open? Having a bit of a meltdown over here.**

_**Fine. But I'm drinking all the coffee. The customers can watch.**_

“Pretty sure he’s joking, you should be covered,” she explains. Her voice has taken on a soothing quality, any edges smoothed out like pure velvet. Bucky wonders if that’s something they teach in her program. Darcy’s hand is on his cheek again and he refrains from crumbling into it. 

Instead he cups his hand over hers and pulls out a smirk, “I wouldn't give him so much credit.” Even as he says the words, jovial in their delivery, he feels the pull of his bedroom like a safety. It’s too much. He’s becoming overwhelmed. He remembers this feeling, one he’s ignored. Maybe that’s why Natasha stopped calling.

Bucky doesn't realize his eyes have glazed over until Darcy’s hand moves under his. He shakes his head, looking down at her. “Sorry, zoned out for a second there.”

There’s a little furrow between her eyebrows as she examines his face. Finally she says, “Do you want to go lay down?” Bucky nods as soon as she asks, his body yearning desperately for retreat. The furrow doesn't disappear as Darcy nods and stands slowly, taking hold of the hand over hers on his cheek.

The memory comes when Bucky’s asleep, vivid like he’s in the room with it already. He and Bruce have just seen each other from across the breezeway outside the chemistry building. Bruce is disheveled, as if he hasn’t slept in days. Suddenly Bucky is filled with so much anger.

A series of moments play through his mind starting with the memory of a phone call from Steve telling him to get downtown to his building. Because that’s how Bruce and Natasha met, Bruce lives next to Steve. Steve and Bucky hadn't talked in a few days, not since he and Natasha officially broke up. Not since their argument. He’d been so angry at Steve for not telling him what was going on between Bruce and Natasha. When he pulled up to the apartment building and Bucky saw Bruce being led quietly to a police car in handcuffs, all that anger trickled away. It was quickly replaced by fear.

Natasha’s bruised face. The bat she just wouldn't let go. Steve quietly seething in the corner, face bloody from his tussle with the unassuming scientist.

Pausing in the breezeway, Bruce puts his hands up. He’s holding a bag. Right. They relieved him from his TA responsibilities. 

Bucky hears the argument with Natasha, her voice ringing in his head stern but raspy and only hardening his resolve, _”I told you, he’s sick. Something is wrong with him, Bucky! This isn’t Bruce.”_

_“Said every little abused girl eve - “_

_“Fuck you!”_ Natasha punched him then, 0 to 60 in no time. Hauled right off and punched him in the face. _”You smug piece of shit. I am not some little girl caught with the next in a string of men that don't seem to care about me. I have never been treated this way and I am telling you, something is wrong with him.”_

Bucky felt shame then, pure and complete. He also felt pain in his jaw. Ow. But it did nothing to erase his anger now. He begins a quick walk toward Bruce, who sets down his bag without hesitation and seems to take a resigned breath. Bucky has Bruce on the ground with a knee to the stomach and for a split second wonders how this man had one of the strongest women he has ever met cowering in a corner while his best friend took him on. That thought is quickly followed by anger and he kicks the downed Bruce in the stomach. Then he stands there, doing his damnedest to breath through his anger, his argument with Natasha playing louder in his head. 

Bruce is taking deep, measured breaths from his place on the ground before he pushes himself almost fully to standing. Bucky fights the urge to lunge at Bruce again as he starts to speak, _“I understand why you’re upset,” _he begins.__

Bucky stops Bruce right there with a shake of his head. _“No, no fucking way,”_ he says, voice rising quickly with anger. _”You chased her through your apartment. You tried to fucking strangle her. Steve had to break in and tackle you! Do you not get that abusive boyfriends don’t get to understand?”_ Bucky’s so angry he can barely see Bruce through the steam, but he doesn't miss the other man collapsing against the wall nearest him and sliding to the ground. 

Bruce’s voice sounds raw when he starts to speak. You’d think he’d been screaming for hours. _“They told me I'd experience some behavioral changes during treatment,”_ he let's out a bitter laugh. _“But it can't be worse than that, right?”_

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, fighting the urge to ask what the fuck Bruce is talking about ‘cause he. Does. Not. Care. Natasha’s prior assertion that Bruce was sick raises in volume in his head and Bucky sighs, closing his eyes. _”What is it?”_

_”A tumor on my pituitary gland. It messes with the hormone dispersal in my body,”_ Bruce cuts off with a whimper. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, trying to fight his annoyance at Bruce’s remorse. Trying to remind himself that this man has just told him he has a physical issue. That Natasha told him. It isn't working. He imagines Natasha hiding behind boxes in the basement with a baseball bat, where Steve found her. He has to suppress the urge to attack Bruce again. In that moment, he feels oddly close to understanding him. _“Look, are you gonna sit there whining or fucking fix it?”_ Bucky asks impatiently instead. 

To his credit, Bruce looks up and takes the question in stride. _”I'll do anything,”_ he says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. _“Aces, so glad it could come to this,”_ he bites out. 

But Bruce did it. In the months that followed that altercation, Bruce did everything he could think of. He began consulting with a full medical team and seeing people to help him with coping mechanisms. When they told him they didn’t want to operate to remove the tumor, that for the time being they’d have to rely on radiation and medication to lessen the effects, he started doing yoga. Eating right. He learned to fucking meditate. He had to drop out of school for a little while but was able to come back when he got things under control.

One day Bruce woke up and he couldn’t see. The tumor was pressing on his optic nerve and it was either risk further growth or go in to remove it. Bruce asked Natasha to marry him when he woke up from that surgery.

Bucky comes out of this memory like he would any dream, staring up at his ceiling. The sun that had previously been shining through the window has been swapped for a beam from a street light. Darcy is warm beside him, left hand absentmindedly stroking through his hair while she holds a book in her right. She must feel him shift beside her because she lowers the book. 

“Hey there, friend,” she says, giving him an easy smile. 

Insight has fostered fresh resolve. “Think I need to call Nat,” he grunts without preamble. Darcy doesn't even hesitate as she hands him the phone and goes back to reading her book. 

The phone rings a few times before the machine picks up. Bucky asks Natasha to meet him at the shop the next day. He needs to talk to her. 


	6. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy’s only stopping in for a cup of coffee really, she has class all day and needs to fortify herself for her busy Monday. She tells him this as she pops behind the bar to fix her own iced coffee after Natasha and Bruce leave._
> 
> _Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s not that busy anymore, I could make it,” he says._
> 
> _Darcy scoffs. “And miss a chance to check out that ass? You must be banana balls.” The statement is punctuated by a smack and Bucky has to hold back the manliest of squeals. Darcy cackles, downright cackles, as she pecks him on the cheek. “Plus,” she adds when she’s still leaned in close. “I wanted to warn you, Wanda’s on her way.” She’s gone before her words register in Bucky’s head, making her way out the door._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I am soooooo sorry that it's taken me so long to publish a chapter yet again. It's been a pretty busy semester thus far. 
> 
> I've just processed the edits to the chapter, so some things may make a little more sense than they did before. Beta'd by the amazing and word-sense-making, [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this installment of The Ballad of Bone Dry. Please rest assured that I have the next part started for sure (beta can attest!) and that I ALSO have lots of Steve/Pietro backstory written that may come out before the next installment of this does. However, that should come as a whole piece rather than chapters.
> 
> Anyway, sorry, enjoy!

Monday:

During the night Bucky dreams, really dreams. They’re a mixture of his memories right after the accident and a tv show he used to watch with Steve as kids. He dreams of things he didn't know he remembered colored by plots he doesn't think he could forget. Everything is flash and color and faces, new and old whirling together in a steady stream.

The last thing he sees before he wakes up is Natasha sitting in a chair in the corner of a hospital room. Her eyes are red-rimmed as she stares blankly back at him. Bucky knows with startling clarity that this is something he forgot to remember. Reminded of her after the accident, part of him aches for her. It’s a nice feeling, actually. It fortifies his already steady resolve.

The next morning Bucky finds Natasha in his office looking over the items on his desk, casually considering the state they’d left things a few days prior. Clint had opened again, per Darcy’s request after she apparently turned his alarm off while he was letting his memory of Natasha make him feel like a dick.

Bucky had always classified Natasha a certain way; the beautifully dangerous woman he could never have, not really. Now, Bucky’s world has shifted. His relationship. Natasha has gone from the beautifully dangerous woman he could never have to the beautifully dangerous woman he did have and grew apart from in a relatively natural progression.

With these thoughts bouncing around in his head, Bucky decides to pull off the bandaid.

He doesn’t even clear his throat before he speaks. “We were together for two years, Tash. I probably could have learned something from that this last time around,” he says, Natasha spinning to face him at his first words. Her expression shifts to a mask of shock. Not at the sentence itself. He knows that. As their eyes meet, he winks. 

Bucky is honestly surprised when her entire body seems to sag in relief. “When everything happened with us...the us after your accident, Steve and I talked a lot about whether I should tell you. Give you some kind of explanation. You seemed so hurt and confused - “

“I didn’t understand,” he finishes for her, lips pressing into a thin line that feels much less directed at Natasha now and more at the situation. Bucky shakes his head. “I remembered something else,” he says. Natasha meets his gaze, waiting. He can read anxiety in her posture but a clear curiosity in her eyes. “About Bruce…” He trails off, unsure of where to begin. The creases around Natasha’s eyes begin to shift; curious, calculating, concluding. He wonders if this is what he looks like when someone triggers a memory. “See, the last thing I remembered was our fight when we broke up and you told me he was sick -- “

Bucky cuts off at the sudden way Natasha’s body stiffens. Whatever she concluded a moment before must have been wrong but she understands now. It makes complete sense. She went to Bruce’s following her fight with Bucky and Bucky didn't see her until three am after Steve called him to break the lock on the basement door. She’d shut herself in there and hidden between the boxes. The door was too thick, she didn't hear Steve calling her name.

“Oh my,” she finally says.

Bucky should have lots of questions ready for her, he’s sure of that. But only one bubbles to the surface, “Why didn't he just tell me?”

Natasha doesn't pause in her answer, “It was easy for him at first. After a while, it became more difficult. But he knew it wasn’t an option.” At Bucky’s furrowed brow Natasha does pause before scrunching her nose up distastefully and perching on the arm of the couch, seemingly deciding to plow forward. “After Steve got you out you kept disappearing in this drunken stupor, leaving his apartment and wondering downtown. Going to your mom’s. She was having a lot of trouble dealing with everything and it was creating a mess. Bruce wanted to get you into counseling and he thought the only way to start that was lay it all on the table. Only, you didn't remember me, us. I hadn't tried to explain it yet. So I found you one morning at Steve’s, when you were in your good hour, and told you who I was,” she stops there, looking at him expectantly. 

Bucky blinks at her. Waits for the ‘but’. “What happened?”

Natasha presses her lips into a thin smile. “Oh, I met the soldier for the first time,” she says.

Bucky freezes in his nervous shifting. “What?” he asks. 

Natasha nods. “Oh yeah, you got up and pulled a duffel bag out from under Steve’s couch. Then you went to his closet and started pulling out hunting knives. I remembered the military medic telling Steve it was very important you didn't become more stressed than normal, but I wasn’t expecting that.”

Bucky hasn't moved. “I'm gonna need you to go back to hunting knives,” he says quickly, eyes raking over exposed skin as if he could find the answers. 

Natasha smiles sadly. “James, I love you, but I backed out of the room so fast I’d apparently put Pete on caffeine to shame,” she says.

Bucky nods, relieved. “Good. I - good.” _Hunting knives_ run a loop through his head as he tries to ignore what he’d been doing. 

Natasha clears her throat. “I told Steve what happened and he went ballistic. He had a whole packet on why it wasn't okay to make choices regarding your mental health without careful consideration,” she explains.

“You couldn't have known, Tash,” he begins.

Natasha sighs. “You disappeared for three days, James. The inpatient treatment we put you in after we found you said your lost memories were locked up tight with your lost year and it was too much all at once; you would disassociate to soldier. Want to know how I know that? Because it happened four times before Steve got everyone under control. Next time you saw me, I just told you we must have met in class and dragged you into the car. You didn’t disassociate and I don’t think we knew how to approach it after that,” she says.

Bucky stares at Natasha for a little while, though he’s nowhere near as angry as he was after their last conversation. He’s thinking about the slow, guarded way they’ve been letting information reach him. It makes sense, so much more sense than it did. Bucky opens his mouth but it’s as if Natasha reads his mind.

“If you were ready to remember her, you would,” she says quickly. “Do you think your brain is in cahoots with us?” she asks, raising her eyebrow. “If it was, if I had it my way, you never would have remembered that about Bruce,” she says the last part quietly.

Bucky sighs. Shakes his head. “Nat, from what you’re telling me, I’m batshit craz -”

“No,” Natasha interrupts. “No you’re not,” she says sternly. “You’re just...a little chipped at the edges.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me when things got better...when the soldier stopped coming out?” he asks, frowning at his own word choices.

Natasha shrugs. “The farther away everything got, the closer you and I became, the harder it was. Which wasn’t fair and I really am so sorry for that,” she says quietly. “I treated you like a child in the whole situation - _we’ve_ been treating you like a child in the whole situation,” she amends quickly.

“Woah there, horsey,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “Maybe you were, but Steve was treating me like a bomb that might go off at any moment.” As soon as the words come out Bucky is hit with the weight of how true they are. With the weight of how likely he was to hold the soldier back based on the story Natasha told him. Now, maybe. Before - he pushes the thought aside in favor of choosing to believe his indignation and anger wasn’t entirely unjustified...even if he couldn't give her a foolproof alternative that even made himself happy. Because he can’t even remember the first time he turned into the soldier around his friends.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, mouth twitching up at the edges the way it does when she’s pleased. “Fair enough,” she agrees, having the decency to not push him further.

Bucky scrubs his hands over his face. “I've been a dick to Steve,” he says.

“Yes.”

Bucky pulls his hands down. “Though can we agree we probably could have told me why we didn't tell me?”

“Yes.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off by a clanging from the cafe. Natasha meets eyes with him and they both launch into motion. Bucky pulls open the office door and immediately freezes.

Clint has his arms wrapped around a man, gigantic smile plastered across his face. Bucky can’t tell who it is immediately with their back to him, but he could hazard a guess. When Clint pulls back just enough to press a firm kiss to Phil’s mouth Bucky’s thought is confirmed.

Behind the couple Bucky can see a small line of regulars forming at the register. No one looks particularly upset at the wait, too focused on the pair. But Bucky knows how quickly the tide can turn. 

Sliding past Clint and Phil as they start talking in hushed voices, Bucky pauses on the other side of them. “Why don't you two go into my office,” he says, stopping their conversation abruptly. 

Phil glances at the line over Bucky’s shoulder. “Apologies for this. I didn't mean to be so disruptive,” he says.

Bucky waves him off. “Don't worry about it, just don't lemme know where in my office you ‘talk’,” he says, clapping both men on the back before spinning on a heel to head behind the counter.

He can hear Natasha behind him. “Christ guys, go in the damn office already,” she says. The way two sets of feet stumble after that makes Bucky think she pushed them. The door shuts on his office as Bucky spots the half-frothed milk Clint dropped on the floor when, he assumes, Phil came in the door. Natasha joins him behind the counter, grabbing the metal cup off the ground. “I’ll make drinks if you talk to people,” she says.

Bucky pauses in his motion toward the register to turn and pull Natasha toward him using her grip on the cup. He takes it from her hand as he presses a kiss to her forehead, “I can work with that.” If she were anyone else he’d be tempted to tease her about the way she relaxes against him. Instead he just gives her arm a reassuring squeeze before dropping the cup in the sink and settling at the register.

Bruce walks into the shop about an hour and a half later, just as the line is dying down. Clint and Phil haven’t come out of the office yet, which is concerning in its own right. Natasha sighs when Bruce points to the closed door. 

“Dear heart, how much do you love me?” she asks as she finishes brewing a handful of lattes. Bruce arches an eyebrow before taking a deep breath and going into the office, entirely unprepared and quite possibly the bravest man Bucky has ever seen.

There is immediately a muffled clattering. “Oh Jesus Christ you two, come on!” Bruce yells from the office. Bucky swears about half his patrons jump a foot or so in the air. He spares them an apologetic smile that probably looks more long suffered than it does reassuring. It quickly turns to suppressing laughter as Bruce continues. “I don’t care! You both have perfectly good apartments. It’s not going to fall off if you make it wait!” There’s some muffled argument, clearly from Clint, before Bruce booms, “Out!”

Clint and Phil come out of the office, dressed sloppily and leaned against each other whispering quietly. Clint spares Bucky a wave, unable to temper his joy, before bursting through the doors out into the crisp air with Phil. Bucky feels something swell in his chest. The feeling is intensified by the emotions he experiences when he catches Bruce watching Natasha behind the bar. She’s just dressed her last three drinks, hands skilled from years of saving Bucky’s ass, and he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. 

The feeling of love is rounded out when the bell above the door rings one more time. Laughter fills the relative small space of the coffee shop, male at first quickly followed by a distinct female voice that makes his heart jump in his chest.

Bucky’s eyes land on the trio as Pietro is handing Darcy a bag of M&Ms. “I’m telling you, I can’t eat them all. Please take them off my hands,” he says.

She’s giggling. “But I can’t catch them in the air like that,” she says. She meets eyes with Bucky mid-giggle and he’s sure he looks like a kid on Christmas morning himself. 

_Oh._

A calm settles in Bucky's chest, like everyone in his life is right where they’re supposed to be. For all intents and purposes, he guesses they really are.

Bruce and Natasha leave after the rush dies down completely, on their way to an appointment they say is set to promise the road to remission. 

Natasha plants a kiss on Bucky’s cheek before they leave. “We’re still getting dinner Thursday night after group, yeah?” Bucky nods, oddly excited for their new plan.

Darcy’s only stopping in for a cup of coffee really, she has class all day and needs to fortify herself for her busy Monday. She tells him this as she pops behind the bar to fix her own iced coffee after Natasha and Bruce leave.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s not that busy anymore, I could make it,” he says.

Darcy scoffs. “And miss a chance to check out that ass? You must be banana balls.” The statement is punctuated by a smack and Bucky has to hold back the manliest of squeals. Darcy cackles, downright cackles, as she pecks him on the cheek. “Plus,” she adds when she’s still leaned in close. “I wanted to warn you, Wanda’s on her way.” She’s gone before her words register in Bucky’s head, making her way out the door. 

Bucky hadn’t noticed at the time but Pietro and Steve have settled in while he was speaking to Darcy. They’re at a table next to one of the windows and their conversation seems to be taking a quick turn. One moment the two are laughing, trading breakfast pastries back and forth that Steve clearly stole from the case while Darcy was distracting him. _Hey!_ Then it’s as if a storm cloud takes over Pietro’s face. After a few more harsh whispers he makes to stand up. 

Steve actually chuckles, hand darting out to grab Pietro’s wrist. “I’ll be damned if I’m doing that again,” he says easily, a look of fondness replacing what once would have read as annoyance. He tugs Pietro back into his seat and the two return to their low conversation

Bucky remembers a time watching them do just this, before Wanda scared Steve and everything fell apart. That Steve was so reserved, almost tentative. Pietro was able to storm out in a matter of moments. While Steve hasn’t changed that much in the past years, a few basic differences pop up. For example when Pietro huffs once more and attempts to lean away from Steve, he grabs the seat of Pietro’s chairs and hauls him closer, caging him in with his legs. Bucky arches an eyebrow, forgetting for a moment why this conversation has to happen right in the shop but mostly enjoying the show. 

“Will you stop it,” Steve says, his voice rising slightly as Pietro tries once more to push away from him.

Pietro shakes his head. “She muddied everything. She _muddies_ everything,” he says. Sure, he sounds frustrated. But Bucky would also venture to say Pietro sounds scared.

Steve must catch it too because he shakes his head, managing to pull Pietro’s chair closer as he struggles to look away from the man in front of him. “She isn’t going to muddy anything if you stop this. I wouldn’t let that happen again,” he says, fighting down a frantic tone Bucky can remember from their childhood. It was the same tone Steve used when they were kids and he told Bucky the bigger kids weren’t going to beat him up that time. Bucky didn’t believe it then and Pietro doesn’t seem to believe it now.

Pietro’s response is quiet before he tries to scoot his chair back again. The fond expression returns to Steve’s face and he lets Pietro leave the table. He makes it about four feet.

“You know I’ve been in love with you for four years now?” Steve asks. It isn’t a loud question, not intended to boom through the place, meaning the din of conversation hides it perfectly. But Bucky is watching and Steve’s calm tones pierce through the noise with utter familiarity. They must reach Pietro with more force because he stops walking immediately. Steve continues on quickly, always the lawyer ready to back up his presented argument, “I fought it, for years I fought it. I let Wanda dive in there with a crowbar and mix everything up. But it doesn’t change anything; she brought you into my office that first time and I was done.” His voice is rough, which not only makes their conversation easier to hear but it tells Bucky he’s trying to make a point, “And it was so wrong.”

Pietro is facing Steve now, stone still. Idly Bucky glances around the shop, wondering how anyone can ignore the intensity of this moment. Students. Headphones. Right.

Steve’s face shifts to something resigned. “I was supposed to protect you. I had a _legal_ obligation to protect you. Nothing good with us could have come out of that,” he says sadly. He adds the next part quickly, “And you had to grow up, Pete. You were destructive and you were so goddamn angry.“

“I didn’t want to be angry,” Pietro says. “I was ready to let that go - “ Steve doesn’t interrupt but Pietro’s words cut off suddenly. Steve’s lips are pressed into a thin line and Bucky wonders if Pietro has just realized how untrue his last statement was. Bucky knows it wasn’t true because he was around for the first time this all happened. Pietro wasn’t ready to let anything go then.

Now? Now Pietro slides back into his seat at the table, eyes darting around the room as Steve’s tone shifts back to a low whisper. 

_Dammit._

Their heads bow closer and closer through the course of their conversation. By the time Steve lets out a laugh that signals relief and sags against Pietro, their foreheads have managed to press against each other entirely.

The bell above the door chimes again and Bucky is reminded why this exchange took place in the shop; Wanda’s form in the doorway makes it strikingly clear.

“Oh shit,” Bucky mutters when Wanda’s eyes land on the pair. They haven’t pulled apart, Steve still speaking softly to Pietro. _Oh come on, man. Do you have to poke the creepy little Romanian bear?_ Only, she doesn’t look angry. On the contrary. Relief seems to take over her body as soon as she sees her brother. Bucky is reminded that it’s been years since they’ve really spoken and he feels a pang of empathy for the woman. People shouldn’t have to miss out on time like that.

To Bucky’s surprise, Wanda doesn’t go over to Steve and Pietro. They haven’t looked up and she doesn’t seem to want to disturb them. Instead she moves toward the bar.

Oh joy. Creepy, damn-near precognitive _joy_.

As she approaches Bucky notices her eyes flitting around the place. “Is Clint here?” she asks once she reaches Bucky. She seems anxious and he’s gotta admit he’s surprised.

Almost as if on cue the bell above the door rings and a panting Clint comes in. To be honest, Bucky is proud he’s fully dressed. Once through the door Clint dramatically braces one hand on his knee while the other points toward Steve and Pietro’s table. 

“I’m here, go.” His eyes are still fixed on the floor as he takes deep, measured breaths. Wanda watches him for a few moments with an amused expression before opening her mouth. “Nope,” Clint silences her, waving a hand in her direction as he straightens up. “You two are fucking brats. Kiss and make-up,” he says. She raises an eyebrow and opens her mouth again. “I ran all the way here, kiss and make-up _goddammit_ ,” he says.

Bucky is equally as confused as he is amused by the interaction. 

Wanda looks down at the floor. She nods once. “I supposed I can’t keep holding it over your head,” she says,

Clint’s wave is dismissive this time. “You didn’t hold it over my head,” he says before pausing to continue panting. “I held it over my own head,” he finishes in a burst.

Steve and Pietro have abandoned their table at this point, making their way slowly over to the counter. 

Pietro is looking at his sister with a raised eyebrow. “So this is what we’ve come to, meddling in my love life because I don’t call you enough?” he asks, though he doesn’t exactly sound mad, stopping a few feet from the bar. Steve comes to stand slightly behind Pietro, almost in unconscious support, and Bucky imagines it’s difficult for Pietro to be mad at Wanda for her hand in that. 

Wanda’s eyes harden, she tilts her head to the side. “You haven’t called me in two years, big brother. But I appreciate your occasional emails. I suppose one can never _truly_ tire of memes,” she says, the word ‘memes’ coming out with such disdain. 

_Woah. Hater._ Bucky suppresses a snort when the voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Darcy.

It isn’t entirely clear what Pietro sees on his sister’s face. Maybe it’s not her face at all. Perhaps it’s the reminder that this man, regardless of his folly, is her big brother by a few minutes at least. He’s supposed to help her navigate the world, not leave her floating in it.

Maybe Bucky is projecting. Pietro probably started thinking about what Steve said.

Either way, Pietro leaves the comfort of Steve’s space and approaches his sister. Wanda’s gaze adjusts to allow for his height as he comes closer but it doesn't really matter when he grabs her thin frame and pulls her against him. 

“You know,” Pietro says into the top of her head when she stays stiff with surprise. “Those memes were for you. You have the adult stuff down, bills and living. But being hip is something you’ve always needed guidance in.” 

Pietro’s voice lowers as he speaks and by the time he’s reached the end it’s practically a whisper. Wanda hasn't necessarily relaxed against him but she isn't so rigid anymore. Then he’s whispering against the top of her head in Romanian. Something about growing up and how he really did think she’d like those cat pictures. 

There’s a congested quality to Wanda’s reply but her face shows no sign of tears when she pulls away to look up at her brother. She tells him he’s everything. Oh. No, wait. She’s saying he’s all she has. And something about Victor?

Pietro smiles down at her. “You’re with Victor?” he asks, a teasing quality to his voice. But also something genuinely happy.

Wanda rolls her eyes. “It’s new. We only started really dating a few months ago,“ she says. But Bucky notices her shifting back and forth, almost imperceptibly.

Pietro shakes his head, smile shifting into a smirk. “Sister, that man - “

“Ugh, don’t be gross,” Wanda attempts to interrupt.

“Has been waiting around so patiently for years,” Pietro finishes quickly. It must be somewhere different than Wanda thought he was going because her shoulders relax. “I like knowing you've given him a chance.”

The two pause in their conversation when Clint slaps his hands together joyfully. “This is what I like to see; kissing and making the fuck up,” he begins backing toward the door as he speaks. “With the family and the heads out of asses.” His hand hits the front door handle. “I would love to stay for the rest of the reunion but I have a thing,” he finishes lamely, pointing the thumb of his free hand aimlessly behind him. 

Steve, Pietro, Wanda, and Bucky all stare at Clint with similar expressions before Wanda takes pity on him, “Shoo.”

Clint doesn't pause but his “Later!” echoes behind him as the door closes.

Turning back to the situation at hand Steve takes a deep breath. “Pete, why don't you and Wanda go get lunch together. Catch up,” he says.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Pietro asks, but there’s no weight behind it and he punctuates the statement with an obviously playful punch to Steve’s arm. Still, Steve reaches a hand out to snag Pietro’s wrist, tugging him forward. 

Bucky doesn't know if Steve means to nose at Pietro’s cheek before he kisses him or if it’s reflex, but it adds a level of intimacy to the motions that’s both tantalizing and difficult to watch. 

Steve’s barely pulls away. “Make it a short lunch,” he says and Pietro visibly shivers.

Oooh Darcy is gonna be so mad when he tells her what she missed.

Wanda’s voice cuts through the moment easily, “If you make a euphemism about dessert I swear I'm going to figure out a way to limit the use of your genitalia with my mind.”

Bucky snorts as Steve goes beet red.

**Author's Note:**

> An: Lemme know if you'd be interested in me posting that Steve/Pietro prequel. It would start about 3 years before the first story in this series and while Darcy won't actually be in it for all intents and purposes, when the story as all done and posted, there will definitely be some info at the end there pertinent to this story.
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks).


End file.
